Potter in Green
by paltropie
Summary: Harry Potter is beginning his education at Hogwarts. How will things turn out now that he's been sorted into Slytherin and Severus Snape is his head of house?
1. Hellos and Goodbyes

**Chapter 1: Hellos and Goodbyes**

Harry couldn't get enough of Diagon Alley. Even after hours of wandering in and out of stores, pushing and shoving his way through the crowds with Hagrid, and admiring the various items in the windows of every shop, Harry still wanted more. He could have gone on staring at the brooms in the window for Merlin knows how long if Hagrid hadn't pulled him away.

Hagrid walked – with those enormous feet of his – further down to a quieter area of the alley. Harry had to jog to catch up. Hagrid stopped in front of a store; Harry finally caught up. He stopped to catch his breath before reading the sign hanging above him: _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_.

"Better go on in," Hagrid said as he patted Harry on the back, almost knocking the boy over. "I'll be off, goin' ter pick up some mer' stuff of yers. I'll meet yer back here in a while." Hagrid pushed – more like shoved – Harry into the shop, and he went on his way, whistling a merry tune.

Harry stepped nervously into Madam Malkin's, admiring the robes of all colours and designs hanging all over the store. He caught sight of a boy with startling white blond hair getting fitted for some black robes. The boy was the first wizard his own age that Harry had seen so far, and he wondered if he and the boy could be friends.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Harry jumped, startled. He turned and found himself looking into the eyes of a smiling witch.

"Sorry dear, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Madam Malkin. Getting fitted for Hogwarts? Come this way, love." Harry was led to the back of the store, where the blond boy was. Madam Malkin threw a black robe over Harry's head and began taking his measurements. Harry took the chance to steal a glance at the boy and realised the boy was smiling – okay, well, more like smirking – at him.

"Hogwarts too?" the boy asked, "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Draco stuck out his hand and Harry took it shyly. "Harry," he replied.

"So, what house do you think you'll be in?" Draco asked Harry. "I'd like to be in Slytherin, all my family's been there. Ravenclaw seems alright too, I guess. My father would hate it if I got sorted into Gryffindor – the whole house is a bunch of blind idiots. And don't even get me started on Hufflepuff. I'd just get back on the train if I got sorted there."

Harry stared at Draco blankly. He hadn't understood a single word. "What?"

"Yes, _House_," Draco exclaimed, dragging the word out. "Slytherin, Ravenclaw…? You've heard of them, haven't you?"

Then, something flashed in his eyes and Draco's expression hardened, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "Wait, you're not one of those Mudbloods, are you?"

Harry was taken aback by the sudden hostility.

"Er...no? I – I don't know what you mean." Harry answered sheepishly, cheeks burning. "I hadn't heard of Hogwarts until yesterday, but um, my parents were wizards. If that's what you're asking."

"Huh. What then, you've been living with _Muggles_?" Harry could hear the barely veiled contempt in Draco's voice. "So how'd you get here then?"

Harry perked up at this.

"Hagrid brought me. He's the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts and he's been helping me get my supplies. Oh look!"

Harry saw Hagrid outside the shop window, holding a cage in his hand. In the cage was a snowy owl.

"There he is," Harry pointed out the window. "And he's bought me an owl?"

Harry waved at Hagrid, grinning. _Hagrid had bought him an owl? _

Draco turned to look at Hagrid outside the window. "An owl, huh? I might just ask Mother for one."

At that moment, Madam Malkin stood up and looked at Harry. "That's you done, dear," she said.

Harry thanked Madam Malkin and, although finding it rather odd that he had finished first, since Draco had been there before him, turned back to the blonde.

"Well, I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts, then," he said with a smile.

"Yes, I guess you will." Draco nodded curtly.

Harry followed Madam Malkin to the counter to make his payment and joined Hagrid outside.

**…**

Harry was elated. He was finally escaping the Dursleys; even if it was only for the school year, it was still a relief. He'd resolved to leave that house since his ninth birthday, but he'd never managed to do it.

They'd avoided him since he'd come back from Diagon Alley with his school supplies. They were so terrified of him – that he'd regrow that tail onto Dudley, oh, sweet revenge! – that they'd left him alone. Not once in the past month had they even said something about Harry or Hedwig's constant screeching, and although he was glad, Harry found it odd.

With no chores to do and no punishments to face, Harry had shut himself in his room, together with Hedwig – his owl – and devoted himself to reading his school books. After that conversation with Draco, where he'd felt so clueless and embarrassed, Harry was determined to at least understand the basics of his subjects at Hogwarts. He'd even bought other books – _Hogwarts: A History and Abracadabra: An A – Z of Spooky Spells, _among others, just so he wouldn't ever have to feel so clueless again.

All Harry did that month was read, and when the day came to get to Hogwarts, Harry was thoroughly fascinated with the magical world. He'd read about all about Hogwarts, all about his classes and all about Quidditch. Harry had never read so much in his life! He had even learnt the charm to repair his glasses – the was no more need for Sellotape! It was quite simple really – all he needed to do was tap his wand and say _occulus reparo._

Harry already knew which classes were his favourite. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions and Flying. The idea of defending himself against creatures and things of evil, of brewing potions that could cure anything and whizzing around on a broom – A broom! Whizzing! - was so delightful he didn't even know he had started grinning.

When he'd reached Kings Cross, the Dursleys didn't even bother saying goodbye. Uncle Vernon hauled his trunk out of the car, got back into the car and drove away. Still grinning, Harry got a trolley for his trunk and for Hedwig's cage and set off to find his train.

**…**

Harry pushed the trolley further into the station, looking around in awe. He'd never really been out of Number 4 Privet Drive before, and he had certainly not been in a train station – much less Kings Cross. Harry swelled with pride and silently thanked his parents for being wizards, even if he knew nothing about them. (Well, nothing more than what Hagrid had told him. And Hagrid hadn't really told him much, other than 'James and Lily were brilliant, they were. Brave and brilliant!')

Wanting to hurry along before the train left him and his brilliant plans for the future behind, Harry reached into the hole-ridden pocket of his (Dudley's, really) tattered jeans, fishing for his train ticket to Hogwarts. Harry was excited and couldn't resist smiling. He was sure he'd enjoy Hogwarts very much! But when he scanned the ticket, his heart skipped a beat. The smile instantly vanished from his face, replaced by a look of horror. Panicked, Harry looked around once more, at the signs above the various platforms. He still had that look on his face – the one that he got every time something odd had happened back at the Dursley's, the look that meant all hope was lost.

_How is this possible?_, Harry thought, re-reading the information on the ticket, frantically searching for a sign that read: Platform 9¾. But the sign didn't _magically_ appear (how ironic!), much to his frustration.

Harry, cursing himself, thought hard. _Argh, there must be a mistake! This can't all be a prank! Where could that damn platform be?_

Harry, not wanting to waste any more time – as the Hogwarts Express was due to leave in just over fifteen minutes – decided that asking around was the best option. So, that's what he proceeded to do. Harry pushed his trolley around the station, asking person after person if they knew where Platform 9¾ was. All he got were a bunch of odd looks as they stared at his oversized clothes or strange belongings on the trolley and answers like 'Are you lost, dear?' or 'Quit messing with me, boy, I haven't got the time!'

Very soon, Harry had begun to lose all hope. His dream of casting brilliant-looking spells, brewing advanced, strange potions and soaring high above everyone on a broomstick seemed like just mere dreams and not, in fact, a reality. Then, as if Luck had had enough of the joke she'd played on Harry, – the Boy Who Lived, mind you – he caught sight of a head bushy hair – a girl, it looked like – running with a trolley, the two figures behind her struggling to match her pace. Harry took hold of his trolley and ran forwards, towards this girl, who he assumed – because of the trunk and similar strange objects on her trolley – was also heading for the same train as he.

"Hurry, Mum, Dad! The train's about to leave!" Harry heard her shout as she came to a stop, waiting for her parents to catch up.

Still running with his trolley, Harry barely stopped himself from barrelling straight into the girl.

"Oh!" she said, pulling her own trolley back reflexively, avoiding a near disaster. "What do you th- oh. You're going to Hogwarts too! But where are your parents? Oh, never mind all that! We have a train to catch, don't we, Mum and Dad!" She turned around and saw her parents stop to catch their breaths.

"Well, I guess we'd better go on first," she said to Harry before running – trolley and all – directly for a barrier. Harry stood there. Jaw agape. Dumbfounded. _Was this girl mad? Maybe I shouldn't follow her after all. I don't even know her name!_ he thought, as the girl – trolley and all, vanished through the barrier. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. He still stood there, dumbfounded. Jaw agape. Only when the girl's parents came up to Harry and asked him to hurry along did he snap out of his reverie, and trusting that the train was on the other side of the barrier and that nothing bad would happen, he closed his eye and ran – trolley and all…

To find himself on the other side.

The other side was magnificent! Even better than he had imagined! The sleek black and red body of the Hogwarts Express, the steam puffing, the gears working. _Magic! This is Magic!_ Harry thought. The train whistled and puffed, clearing Harry's head. He watched as the platform although somewhat still filled with students, depleted and he rushed to the train doors, hurrying inside. (Well, as much as he could hurry with a large, heavy trunk and an owl as his load) Harry barely made it into the carriage before the train puffed and whistled once more, slowly pulling away from the station.

_Phew, that was too close a call!_Harry thought, as he watched the other students stick their limbs and heads and pets out the windows, waving goodbye to their families. For a moment, Harry felt a pang of jealously. _What had he done to not deserve a happy, loving family? One that he could wave and blow kisses at as the train pulled out of the station. What would it be like if his parents were her, right now, waving goodbye to him? _Then, Harry decided it wasn't worth mulling over things that could have been and walked down the carpeted aisle, looking for a place to spend the rest of the journey.


	2. Off to Hogwarts

**Chapter 2: Off To Hogwarts**

Harry stopped at the first compartment he came to and snuck a look inside. _Brothers_, he thought, as three heads of bright red hair met his eyes. Gazing longingly at the laughing, jabbing and whining of the boys in the compartment, Harry wishes he had an older brother or even a sister – someone who could've looked out for him at the Dursley's. Just then, a rat came flying towards the glass, startling him out of his reverie. Harry blinked in surprise and quickly hurried away.

The next few compartments Harry passed weren't for him as well. They were either too crowded, too loud, too lively or too awkward. Harry walked down some more, until he came to an empty compartment near the rear end of the train. Harry slid open the door and shuffled to sit by the window, staring at the greens, browns, blues and greys that flashed by. He rode in relative silence, interrupted only by the occasional student looking for their lost pet and the arrival of the trolley lady (Harry didn't know what to buy so he bought some of everything).

Harry stuffed himself with the sweets and pastries he'd bought from the trolley. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans were his favourite – he kept reaching into the box for more – but he finally got put off when he ate a particularly nasty vomit flavoured bean and chucked the box to one side. Harry loved the chocolate frogs too, but he had a shock when he opened the first packet and the frog leapt up onto his face. But the cards more than made up for that, in Harry's opinion. He was so fascinated with the moving figures of the witches and wizards and the short bio that accompanied them that he didn't notice that the door had opened and someone had come in.

"So," a voice said. At that, Harry jumped and found himself looking into a set of pale grey eyes. A moment later, he registered that it was the boy he'd met at Madam Malkin's, who'd asked him about what house he'd be in, and he flushed. _Draco, _Harry remembered.

Draco continued speaking, as if he hadn't noticed Harry's start. "It's you then, is it? Why didn't you tell me who you were, Potter?" Draco sneered.

"Uh…well…I um…" Harry stuttered, and felt his cheeks burn even hotter.

Draco smirked at Harry's obvious discomfort and arched a brow. "Not very eloquent, are you, Potter? Well, I think I could help you with that." Draco stuck out his hand. "What do you say, friends?"

Harry blinked in surprise. _Draco wanted to be his friend? _He'd never really had a friend before. And no, that boy in Year Three didn't count – he'd done it just to spite Dudley, and in the end, it hadn't worked out. Harry hesitated, then smiled timidly and grabbed Draco's hand, shaking it harder than was necessary.

Draco smiled back and searched the other boy's face, resting his eyes on Harry's scar. "So Pott-" Here, Harry interrupted with a mumbled "Just Harry."

Draco pretended not to notice and went on as if Harry hadn't spoken. "So, Potter," he emphasised the name. "Know what House you'll be in now?"

Again, the trademark Malfoy smirk appeared.

Harry flushed for the third time in five minutes and straightened his glasses.

"Uh, no. I mean, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw aren't too bad, I suppose… but I don't think I'll get sorted there. My Mum and Dad were Gryffindors, so it's possible I'll be one too." Harry paused at Draco's grimace. "But, um, I don't think I'm quite brave enough. Slytherin's cool too, I guess. Only… no one thinks I'll be sorted there, it being the 'Dark House' and all, and me being who I am."

Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. _As if the blood traitors and mudbloods weren't prejudiced themselves_.

"They only say that because they're jealous, Potter, and they won't understand. I think you're smart enough to know that each House has had its fair share of successes and failures."

Harry nodded and thought Draco would make a fine Ravenclaw, although who knew, really.

**…**

Draco and Harry had the compartment to themselves for the rest of the journey. (Except when two burly blank-faced boys barged in and started staring – Draco introduced them as Vincent and Gregory and made them leave after that.) Harry didn't talk much – there wasn't much he could share. He just listened to Draco talk about his summer, about Quidditch, about Hogwarts, about magic, about his mother, and Harry asked questions or nodded at the right places.

When it started to get dark outside, Draco stood up and reached for Harry's trunk. He took out his wand, uttered _alohomora, _and the lock clicked open before Harry could even say anything. Reaching in, the blonde grabbed Harry's robes and shoved them at Harry, telling him to go get changed. Harry stumbled out and headed for the bathroom.

"Seriously, Potter. Does your hair never settle?" Draco ran a hand over his own hair and huffed at Harry when he came back from the bathroom, hair sticking up in every direction.

"And really, you'll have to learn to tie that." Draco nodded at Harry's haphazardly knotted tie. Harry just shrugged, so Draco sighed and did it for him.

**…**

Before both boys knew it, the train came to a halt. Draco straightened up and pulled Harry to his feet. "Come on, let's get off this train before we get left behind."

Draco led the way to the exit doors, shoving past the mob of students crowded in the aisle. The boys jumped out onto the platform, right into the path of Hagrid, who stopped just in time.

"Oh! Whotcher, Harry! How'd yer find the jer'ney?" Hagrid looked down at Harry, a smile lifting up the corners of his ragged beard.

"Come, yer bet- is that a Malfoy, Harry?" Hagrid's tone became clipped and he narrowed his eyes when he finally caught sight of the blonde beside Harry.

Harry nodded and shrugged up at Hagrid. The Hogwarts Gamekeeper seemed to clear his head then and gestured for them to follow him. Harry and Draco tagged behind Hagrid as he shouted: "Firs' years, firs' years, follow me!"

When they were all gathered together, with the two boys near the front, Hagrid led the group of first years away from the other students and down a separate path. It grew dimmer as the platform drew further away. The only light was that of Hagrid's lamp, which didn't really do much good for many students stumbled on the unseen bumps and holes in the ground. Up ahead, Harry caught sight of a magnificent castle upon a hill, lights twinkling from open windows. Harry nudged Draco and both of them stared at the building before them. Neither Harry nor Draco spoke a word as the chatter around them fell into hushed whispers and then, finally, into silence.

"There yer are, right there, yer firs' sight of Hogwarts!" Hagrid announced as he huddled the group closer and let them admire the sight for a while.

Hagrid led them on, towards a dock, and got them to find a boat. "No more than four ter' a boat!"

Harry and Draco climbed into a boat, followed by the bushy-haired girl that Harry had met before and a chubby-faced boy who was shaking even as he climbed in, a toad in his hand. The four of them sat in awed silence, still looking at Hogwarts Castle.

Once he'd made sure that everyone was accounted for, Hagrid climbed into a boat of his own and waved his pink umbrella. As if by magic, the boats began to glide across the gleaming surface of the lake, closer to the castle that would house them for the next seven years.


	3. Better Be Slytherin!

**Chapter 3: Better Be Slytherin**

The boats stopped in a tunnel, bobbing gently by the water's edge. Harry and Draco clambered out first, followed closely by the boy and girl they'd shared with. The sounds of crunching pebbles and excited voices grew louder as more and more first years stepped out of their boats. Harry brushed off his robes just as Hagrid announced: "This way, come on!" and started to climb a flight of stone steps. The group hurriedly followed the light of his burning lamp.

The light stopped moving as Hagrid led them to a platform at the top of the stairs. A hush fell over the crowd as they caught sight of the giant oak doors framed by burning sconces. Hagrid turned to face the fidgeting first years and beamed down at them, then stepped forward and raised his fist. He pounded on the doors and they swung open.

A shadow emerged from the open door and into the light. It was a witch dressed in fine robes of gleaming gold and wearing a crooked scarlet witch's hat. Her face, although lined with age, was stern; and when her eyes swept across the gathered first years, Harry knew that she wasn't one to be crossed. Harry whispered as much to Draco, who looked as if he'd just run into a ghost.

Speaking of ghosts, three pale figures chose that moment to float out the open door, talking amongst themselves. Harry caught snippets of their conversation: "new students…the Boy who Lived…what House…Peeves…" The ghosts didn't seem to notice the group of students gathered before them and kept their floating pace, almost passing straight through a red-haired girl, who shrieked and moved aside.

Finally, the witch seemed to have had enough. She cleared her throat and everyone turned their attention to her, even the ghosts, one of whom said a hurried "Ah, new students, I see. Welcome to Hogwarts! Hope to see you in Gryffindor!" and led the way back inside the castle. Draco scoffed and muttered something about Gryffindors. Harry looked at him quizzically.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall," said the witch. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on the chubby faced boy from the boat. Harry gulped nervously and tried to flatten his hair. Draco unconsciously pulled at his tie.

"I will return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She turned and left the way she had come.

…

Harry let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Draco looked at him and smirked, shaking his head slightly; totally ignorant of how he'd looked when McGonagall had first appeared.

"You know, I don't see why…" Draco trailed off. He tilted his chin, motioning to someone behind Harry. Harry turned and spotted the red-haired boy he'd snuck a peek at earlier on the train walking towards them, a dark-skinned boy beside him.

"Hi," the boy said when he reached Harry and Draco. "I'm Ron."

Ron held out his hand and smiled at Harry. Harry didn't take it. Instead, he looked to Draco, as if the other boy could do something. Ron's eyes narrowed as he looked from Harry to Draco.

"I wouldn't associate with him if I were you, Potter. He's a Weasley. Worst lot of purebloods I've ever come across. Blood traitors, they are. And he's _Gryffindor_." Draco addressed this to Harry, before glaring at the Weasley.

"What are you here for, Weasley? With those hand-me-down's and incompetent official of a father, I'd bet you're after Potter's fortune. Or are you trying to recruit people to your idiotic Gryffindor cause? Potter won't be swayed that easily, Weasel. So I suggest you leave him alone." This, Draco aimed at Ron.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. Even he was surprised that Draco had gone that far. Harry, feeling guilty, bit his lip and cast an apologetic look at Ron – a gesture that wasn't acknowledged.

Ron's cheeks turned red in rage, his nostrils almost flaring visibly. He clenched his fist, and Harry could tell that nothing good could come out of this. Then, they heard the sharp click of heels on the stone floor and the boys dropped it, leaving the score-settling for another day. Professor McGonagall had returned.

"Come along now, follow me. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall's gaze settled on Harry, Draco and Ron, and they all looked away, refusing to meet her gaze.

"You know that I could be a Gryffindor, right?" Harry told Draco, when the Professor finally looked away. He received a scathing look in reply.

"Quickly, form a line!"

Harry, feeling as though he'd been glued to the floor, dragged his feet forward and got into line behind two Indian girls. _Twins, _he thought. Draco got into line behind him, and Ron and the dark-skinned boy hung back for a while before joining the line. They walked through the front doors, into a sprawling chamber and through another set of double doors – into the Great Hall.

Harry had never imagined that something as beautiful as this could exist. The Great Hall was lit by thousands of flickering candles that floated above four long tables, where the rest of the school was sitting. The tables were decorated in reds, greens, blues, and yellows; and were lined with set after set of golden plates, goblets, and cutlery. Harry felt countless sets of eyes upon him and glanced upward; he saw a ceiling of twinkling stars upon a sleek black canvas.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Harry heard someone say, and remembered that he'd read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_.

On a raised platform at the top of the hall was another long table where the staff and teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led the first years up there and placed a four legged stool in front of them. On top of the stool, she placed a very old, very frayed wizard's hat. Harry noticed then that every eye was turned towards the hat; so that's what he did too. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a tear on its brim opened up and it began to sing:

Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The whole hall burst into cheers and applause as the Hat finished its song and bowed, before falling silent and went still once more, as if it had never moved in the first place. Professor McGonagall held up a hand and every eye in the room flicked to her. She stepped in front of the first years, holding a long roll of parchment in her hand. One by one, the First Years were called up to be Sorted, and one by one, the nervous group slowly dwindled.

Harry wasn't really paying attention. He was more worried about his own Sorting to notice that the girl from the platform – Hermione Granger – had been sorted into Gryffindor and that the chubby-faced boy – Neville Longbottom – had somehow made it to Gryffindor too.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts then and clapped Draco on the shoulder. Draco nodded back at him and sauntered forward to put the hat on his head. He sat down and the hat fell over his eyes. For almost a whole minute, there was nothing. Everyone seemed to be confused – whispers broke out, and the teachers exchanged glances. Even Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable. But then – "Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table cheered and clapped as Draco stood up and looked back at Harry, a smug smile on his face – but his grey eyes looked anything but smug; if anything, they had a hint of worry and relief in them. "Not Gryffindor," Draco mouthed at him and hurried to join the rest of the Slytherins. Harry noticed that as he approached the table, Vincent and Gregory had offered him a seat – which he'd turned down – and gone on to carefully choose a spot near the first year girls. Harry supposed he was avoiding the two, for some reason.

Now alone with strangers, – except for Ron Weasley, who kept his steely glare on the back of Harry's head – Harry waited in nervous anticipation for his name to be called. There was a pause and an intake of breath from the witch, then McGonagall called his name, with a certain air of pride about it. Harry hurried to the stool, trying to avoid the eyes of students from all houses who'd stood up to have a better look. Harry glanced up at the staff table and met the stone cold gaze of a black-haired professor. A shiver went down his spine and he shoved the hat on his head, and sat down.

"Harry Potter. I've been looking forward to Sorting you." Harry jumped when he heard the voice in his ear, although he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised. "You're a rather difficult one, aren't you? Plenty of courage, I see, and there's loyalty, though you haven't had many chances to prove that. Not a bad mind, either; intelligent for your age, and curious, too. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself. It seems you could go anywhere."

Harry's heart thumped hard against his chest and he gripped the edges of the stool.

"Where shall I put you, Mr Potter?"

_Wherever you think is right, _Harry thought. _But preferably where I'll belong. _

"Now, now, are you sure? You could choose, you know."

Harry had a fleeting thought that the Hat was amused.

"You'd do well in Gryffindor, just as your parents did."

Harry didn't know if he wanted to be a Gryffindor, now that he'd met Draco.

"It seems you've already made a friend in Mr Malfoy. Rather like you, he was, a hard one to place. An interesting friendship, one would say. In that case, how about Slytherin? It may not be easy, but eventually, I'm sure you will thrive among the snakes."

The Hat knew his decision before he made it.

"Yes, Salazar's House would prepare you for the path ahead. It was a pleasure, Mr Potter, and I wish you all the best in –

"SLYTHERIN!"


	4. The Snakes

**Chapter 4: The Snakes**

Harry removed the hat and found himself in the situation that he'd been dreading. Every jaw in the entire hall dropped (except for a sole white-blonde boy) and every gaze morphed into a stare – some curious, some accusing, others disbelieving. Harry ducked his head, trying not to meet anyone's eyes. As he shuffled towards the table decked in green and silver, the hall seemed to finally recover from their shock.

It was Draco who initiated the applause, and soon enough, the table had followed his lead, although it wasn't quite the welcome that others newly Sorted had received. Harry paid it no mind, however; he was simply content with the friend he had in his new House.

He caught Draco's eye and the blonde gestured for Harry to take the empty spot beside him. Harry slid into his seat, receiving quiet words of welcome from the several older Slytherins; and suddenly remembered the piercing black eyes from before. He risked a glance at the staff table and found the pale, greasy-haired professor glaring fixedly at him. Harry flinched and sunk lower into his seat, not quite able to brush off the sense of a burning rage and hatred in those eyes. Harry felt a chill go down his spine and flicked his eyes back down to the sparkling silver plate on the table, oblivious to the boy beside him calling his name.

Harry felt a hand grip his shoulder and he started, discreetly breathing a sigh of relief when he realised that it was only Draco. For a moment, Harry had thought it was the professor. He shuddered again. Draco looked at him oddly, though he didn't press the matter.

"I knew you couldn't stand the thought of going the next seven years without me, Harry."

Slightly unnerved by the attention he was getting from his classmates, Harry merely grunted, not registering that Draco had finally called him by his first name.

"Oh, you don't know them yet, do you?" Draco asked, gesturing to his fellow first-years. "That's Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode."

"Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis – she's half-blood, apparently – and you've already met Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle."

Draco's grey eyes sparkled, almost glowing silver, as Harry took in the information. Then he frowned and scowled in the direction of the Sorting Hat, which a very smug looking Ron Weasley had just pulled off his head. The redhead ran forward into the sea of scarlet and gold, a grin lighting up his face. The applause slowly died away as the second-youngest Weasley slunk into a seat near his twin brothers, rolling his eyes at something they'd said.

"No surprises there." Draco muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear.

The last student to be sorted was Blaise Zabini – a very refined looking black boy – who'd been placed into Slytherin, much to Draco's delight. "Huh, Zabini's here too! We were tutored together, you know? Although, I'd always had him down to be a Ravenclaw," Draco whispered, seeing as the Headmaster had started speaking.

"… Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you." Dumbledore waved his wand with a flourish, bowed and sat down.

"Uh… Draco? Is he… mad?" Harry asked, quite concerned about the aged wizard's mental state.

Draco didn't seem to hear him, for he was absorbed in filling his plate from the platters of piping hot food that had appeared in front of them. Harry gasped at the sight, unable to believe his eyes! Every sort of food he'd ever dreamed of eating was right there, an arm's reach away; baked potatoes, pumpkin pies, carved turkey, roast beef, sausages and mash, peas and corn. The endless variety was making Harry drool. He stabbed blindly at a piece of meat and was just about to put in straight into his mouth when Pansy Parkinson – the first year with curly brown locks and turquoise eyes spoke up.

"Potter! Please be civilised when you eat! We don't need another Crabbe and Goyle. And to answer your question, yes, Dumbledore's quite mad. The most powerful wizard in Britain, but quite mad."

Harry fumbled with his fork and grinned guiltily, trying to control his urge to eat like Dudley did. Harry hastily set the piece of roast beef back onto his plate and cut it into smaller pieces, then stuffed it heartily into his mouth and savoured the juicy, chewy red meat. He'd never tasted something as marvellous as this before, and he was just getting started! Harry's hand flew to other platters, piling food onto his plate. Pansy and Millicent just shot him looks and shook their heads. Theodore snickered and nudged Draco, who had to stifle a laugh.

Then Draco seemed to realise the cold black eyes fixed on the Slytherins, in particular Harry, and nudged him. Harry paused in the middle of eating a particularly delicious pie and turned to Draco with widened eyes, as if to say he was already in what passed off as heaven for the wizarding world.

"One would say you'd never tasted a pie in your entire life," Draco drawled, amused. Harry blushed for the fifth time that day, knowing just how true Draco's words were. "Even Professor Snape seems to have noticed."

Harry glanced at the Head table again and gulped. Professor Snape was staring at Harry, lip curled somewhere between disgust and contempt. All the first-years snickered when Harry looked back at them, Draco most of all. Harry could still feel the cold black gaze on him and decided to say something.

"I think he hates me. Professor Snape, I mean."

Zabini – Blaise laughed. "Don't worry, Harry. Snape does that to everyone. Look – he's doing that to the guy with the purple turban too." He gestured to Quirrell, whom Harry had already met before in the Leaky Cauldron. He felt a phantom flash of pain in his scar as he thought about their odd meeting and clutched at it.

No one else seemed to notice, to Harry's relief. They would have thought he was crazy, clutching at his scar like that in the middle of dinner for no apparent reason.

"And why would he hate you, anyway?" Draco continued, "If he hated anyone, it would've been your father. Mother says they were quite the enemies when they were in school."

"They were?" Harry asked, intrigued, and then Harry remembered what the Hat had told him. "By the way, Draco, did the Hat let you choose?"

All the first-years looked to Draco, curious, as he placed his fork down, eyes becoming cold.

"No. Malfoys have always been Slytherins, and I'm no different."

Harry shrugged, wondering at the change of behaviour, when the desserts appeared. Harry was stunned once more: jelly, treacle tarts, chocolate fudge, cheese cake, apple pie – it was all there. He helped himself to dessert, and at last, when he felt like he could no longer eat, the food vanished and Dumbledore got to his feet.

Harry eyed the wizard warily. He was getting tired and all he wanted to do was to retreat to bed, not have to listen to nonsensical rambling.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the Forbidden Forest is indeed _forbidden_, and I think a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that students are not permitted to use magic in the corridors between classes. Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their House team should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. "He can't be serious," he muttered and Pansy smirked, giving him an 'I told you so' look.

"And now, before we go, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried. Harry noticed that the staff members' faces were fixed into broad smiles, all except for the Slytherin Head of House, who was frowning deeply. Dumbledore flicked his wand and a golden ribbon that emerged from the tip folded itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!"

The hall burst into chaos as the entire school bellowed the words. Gryffindor, of course, 'sang' the loudest. Harry grimaced and had to stop himself from covering his ears. Pansy, Millicent, Daphne, Tracey, Theodore, Draco and Blaise didn't look bothered by the horrible cacophony. It seemed like only he, along with a few other older Slytherins, didn't enjoy this 'music' in the least.

Everyone finished the song at different times. Eventually, only the Weasley twins were left singing to a slow funeral march. Dumbledore himself conducted the last few lines of the song and was one of the few who clapped the loudest when they finished.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

…

The Slytherin prefects led the rest of the house through the chattering crowds and out of the Great Hall. They walked down the grand marble staircase and down more stairs that led to the dungeons. They turned left and right, walked through passageway after passageway, and came to a stop in front of an ordinary looking wall with a carved stone column in front of it. Harry tried to brand the directions to this place into his mind, but he didn't think it worked. Yet.

"Past this wall is the Slytherin Common Room. The password is _Asphodel_. I trust you will not divulge this information to any other house. We also encourage you not to invite a member of any other House, especially not Gryffindor, into our Common Room."

As the prefect spoke the words, the wall slid to the side, opening for the group of students gathered in the dim hallway. The first-years stepped inside eagerly, wanting to catch a glimpse of the Common Room that would be theirs for the rest of their Hogwarts education.

The common room was elliptical and there were windows that looked out upon the lake. The room was lit only by flickering sconces and candles that lined the tables and rough-hewn stone walls, giving off a cosy green light. There were stone steps that led to the main area which was furnished with green armchairs. A fire was crackling steadily under a mantelpiece with the inscription '_Your only limit is your own._' Green and grey beanbags were scattered around the room. Elaborately carved high-back chairs surrounded the tables that were placed wisely in the brightest areas of the room. Bookshelves filled with row upon row of books lined the walls. Two corridors, one on the left and another on the right of the room, branched out from the main area.

"Dormitories are down those corridors. Boys on the right and girls on the left. I don't think I have to tell you that boys are not allowed in girls dorms, and vice versa."

The first-year boys and girls bid each other their good nights and headed off to their corridors. Harry, Draco, Theo and Blaise walked to the end of the corridor and found themselves outside a room marked with a plaque that read: 'First Years'. Harry pushed open the door and the other boys followed him into the dormitory. Harry took in the room around him and nodded to himself, happy with the furnishings and layout.

Six four-poster beds with green and silver curtains were set up, clearing out a circular space in the middle of the room. To one side, there was a bathroom that positively gleamed. Each boy had a chair and desk of his own, and their uniforms and scarves were neatly folded and lay on their beds. At the foot of each bed was a school trunk. Harry hurriedly went to find his for his eyes could no longer stay open. Stifling their yawns, the boys pulled out their pyjamas (Harry's was tattered and old; no surprise there) and climbed into their own beds without bothering to brush their teeth.

"Good night," Harry addressed the room, and they returned it.

Harry smiled, reminiscing about the day he had had. All in all, it was much better than he had imagined. He lay there and finally, the darkness claimed him. Harry slept soundly all night; he didn't even stir.


	5. The Head of House

**Chapter 5: The Head of House**

At seven o'clock sharp the following morning, Harry woke to the mumblings of dissent and the whining complaints of five of his fellow Slytherins. Harry rubbed his crusty eyes and blinked away the sleepiness.

Then, from the direction of the door, Harry heard the same silky voice from last night – of the prefect who'd led them to the dungeons. "Come on, you lot! Seven's late enough. There's no time for sleeping in today. We've called a meeting for you first-years before you head off to breakfast. Trust me, you wouldn't want to be late. Be down in the common room in twenty minutes."

All six boys heard the click of the door as it closed and Vincent and Gregory were about to head back to their beds to sleep through more of the day when Draco sighed and addressed them. "Well, you heard what he said. We better hurry. I've heard Snape's not one to be kept waiting."

They finally seemed to consent – Vincent and Gregory grunted, Theodore nodded, Blaise rolled his eyes and Harry reached down for his trunk – and soon they had each gotten hold of their uniforms and were grudgingly trudging towards the bathroom.

…

Harry emerged from the bathroom a quick while later, all freshened up and excited for the first official school day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco and Blaise were the next to emerge, discussing the benefits of owls compared to cats. (Draco had somehow managed to convince his mother to buy him a very expensive and rare Eagle Owl that he'd named Regal; Blaise, although he'd not brought a familiar to the castle, had two cats back at Zabini Hall.)

_Hedwig!_ Harry suddenly remembered, only just thinking about the snowy owl he'd been given for his birthday. _How could I forget? Good thing Draco had been talking about owls, or I think I wouldn't have realised! _Harry sheepishly voiced his thoughts aloud while he fumbled around with the green and silver striped Slytherin tie.

"Be prepared for more than just a nip on the finger, Harry." Draco reproached his friend, chucking a pillow at his head. Harry ducked. "And honestly, if there was an award for Least Presentable Slytherin, you'd win it."

Draco walked over to Harry and helped him with his tie for the second time in two days. Theodore just leant against a bedpost and smirked, quite entertained by the scene before him. Soon, all the others had finished their business in the bathroom and were back in the dormitory.

"Oh well, I think we should head down now. Time's almost up." Blaise gestured toward the door.

Harry was the first to the door. The others fell into step behind him and eventually found themselves in the common room, the four first-year Slytherin girls already waiting for them by the fire. In other parts of the room, older students were gathered – some eyeing the newly sorted students, some whispering among themselves, some totally absorbed in whatever activity they were engrossed in. Others had already begun to filter out through the 'wall', headed down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast.

The boys made their way to the armchairs, where the girls were sitting playing a very one-sided game of wizard's chess. Not surprisingly, Daphne was totally uninterested in the game. She'd never really bothered much with chess before, and she certainly wasn't going to now. Tracey, well, was totally absorbed in a book and wasn't about to break her concentration. The white figurines controlled by Millicent were being struck down one after another by Pansy's black chess pieces. Vincent, Gregory, Blaise, Theodore and Draco fell into separate armchairs of their own as an intrigued Harry manoeuvred around to watch the game better.

"Morning Pansy. Morning Millicent. Morning Daphne. Morning Tracey. " No girl replied. One was too busy winning; one was too busy losing; one was too busy being uninterested and the other was too busy reading a book. Unfazed by being ignored, Harry rested his chin on the table, fascinated, his eyes darting from piece to piece. He watched Pansy smile a smile of victory as the white king was cornered.

"Checkmate!" Pansy shouted triumphantly. Millicent's last piece threw its crown down in surrender and toppled off the board, shattering into pieces. The girl scowled and grudgingly admitted defeat, before flicking her wand at the board.

"Reparo!" Harry's eyes widened as the chess pieces re-gathered and the damage was undone. At that moment, the wall slid open to admit their head of house, dressed in his usual attire of billowing black robes. The prefects trailed him into the common room as the first-years all hastily stood up and mumbled their own version of a greeting. The potions professor stopped before the ten students and leaned against the stone mantelpiece. The same prefect from their previous encounters stepped forward and gestured for them to sit.

"Morning, firsties. I believe we didn't manage to have a proper introduction last night, seeing as you were all so tired. I hope you've had a good first night in Slytherin. My name is Nicolas Grimmett, one of your sixth-year prefects. If you have any troubles, feel free to come to me or one of the other prefects," Nicolas indicated the students behind him. A girl with soft red locks introduced herself as Jemma Farley, a fifth-year. Mervyn Wynch – a bespectacled boy, was also a fifth-year and incidentally, Jemma's boyfriend. Alice Meakin was a seventh-year prefect, along with Simon Dedworth, who was Head Boy. Leanne Farley – Jemma's sister, was the other half of Slytherin's sixth-year prefects.

Done with the introductions, Professor Snape stepped out of the shadows. Pansy, Daphne and Theodore blinked, as if they hadn't noticed the man standing there, surveying them. He motioned for the fifth- and seventh-year prefects to leave, before addressing the students in barely more than a whisper. Somehow, he still managed to capture the full attention of each first-year. His gaze flicked over each of them, lingering for longer than necessary on Harry. Harry felt the eyes on him and his own unconsciously drifted towards the _oh-so-interesting_ patterned rug.

"You are now all members of Slytherin house – the House of ambition and cunning; and although no one from any other House will say it, the best House at Hogwarts. Slytherin is a place of pride and power, of unity and strength. It would do you well to remember that we are not Gryffindors. We think before we act, and if, and only when it is necessary to break the rules, we do not get caught.

Our house has produced outstanding witches and wizards, and you too have that potential if only you choose to cultivate it. Your only limit is your own. For obvious reasons, unfortunately, Slytherin house has a tainted reputation. Others fear us, and so, if we ever give them the chance, we will be the first to be suspected and the first to be blamed. No doubt, in the next seven years of your education, you will all be targets of prejudice from other Houses and other professors – even the Headmaster himself."

Professor Snape paced back and forth as he spoke.

"So let me say this now: outside of these dungeon walls, you will stand as one. You will look out for one another. You will defend or assist your housemate no matter the circumstance. You will not attempt to undermine a fellow Slytherin in front of a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, and especially not a Gryffindor. You will not allow them the opportunity to crack our foundations. I cannot stress this enough. If there is problem within this house, it stays within these walls. In no way will you let it out into the corridors. If I find out of any such situation, you will answer to me. And believe me when I say this, the consequences will be dire. Do you understand me?"

All the first-years gulped and rapidly nodded their understanding, definitely not wanting to face the consequences – no matter what they might be.

"Good," the professor continued. "Now, are there any questions?"

All of them shook their heads. All except for Harry, who hesitated for a second, then raised his hand. Clearly not expecting any questions, the professor arched an eyebrow and fixed the brunt of his gaze on Harry, sneering.

"Yes, Mr _Potter_? Am I _qualified_ enough to answer your question?"

Harry stuttered in nervousness.

"Y-yes sir. Can we be friends with people from other Houses?"

All his housemates turned to stare at him, as if wondering if he was mad. Harry didn't understand it, however. _Was it right to isolate an entire Houses from one another?_

Snape curled his lip in disgust. "What? Is Slytherin not _good enough_ for young Harry Potter?" Already wanting to fill the halls with your _fame_, do you?"

The Slytherins reeled back in shock. They'd been told the professor always looked out for his snakes and never treated them unfairly; so nothing could explain this behaviour towards one of their own – especially towards Harry Potter.

Harry was deeply hurt by the acidic comments, though he didn't show it. He flinched inwardly, wondering what he had done to make his Head of House hate him so much. He'd never ever met the man! Harry bit his lip and decided not to antagonise the man further. Instead he hung his head and fiddled with his sleeves.

"Very well, since Mr Potter has no intention of answering my questions, I suggest you all head down to the Great Hall for breakfast immediately. Grimmett. Farley. See to it."

"Yes, sir."

The two sixth-years stood even straighter in their ramrod position, if it were even possible. All the remaining Slytherins watched in silence as the professor swept away, robes billowing splendidly around him.


	6. Not So Bad After All

**Chapter 6: Not So Bad After All**

The ten first-years, led by the pair of sixth-year prefects, were talking amongst themselves on the way up the staircase. Vincent and Gregory were trading ideas on what food they thought would be served. Pansy and Millicent were giggling at something. Theodore, Daphne and Blaise were commenting on the portraits they passed. Tracey was lagging behind, silent. Harry and Draco were at the front of the group, conversing in hushed tones about the incident with their Head of House in the common room.

"See what I mean? He hates me!"

"Yes, Harry, I think even a troll could have figured that out. But _why_, though?"

Harry was just about to comment when he realised they were walking through the doors of the Great Hall. Seeing the incoming group of Slytherins, every Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw dropped their breakfast and stopped their conversations to stare at them. Once again finding himself the centre of attention, Harry felt his cheeks heat. A second later, the whispers started.

"He can't turn out good – "

"The Hat must've made a mistake!"

"Slimy snake…"

"I've always known there's something wrong with him. Defeating You-Know-Who like that… just not possible for a normal baby."

"Looks so much like his Dad… he'd be disappointed, I guess…"

Harry felt a bubble of anger rise up in his chest. He really hated it all. He hated being judged by the rest of the school just because he was a Slytherin. He hated being the Boy Who Lived – something he hadn't even known about until just about a month ago, much less remembered! It just wasn't fair. Harry wished they'd all just stop staring; that they'd all just stop whispering. He just wanted to be Harry, the Slytherin; not Harry Potter, Boy-Hero destined for Gryffindor.

Harry had had enough. _This has to stop now. I can't survive seven years of this madness. _Steeling himself, he looked up and shot all the offending students a look that could have withered all the flowers in the Dursley's yard. They shrunk under Harry's glare and went back to their food, though still whispering.

When they reached the Slytherin table, several older students nodded at Harry, as if expressing their approval, although some still glanced at him with varying masks of worry and suspicion. Harry acknowledged them with a nod of his own and slid into his seat, pulling Draco down beside him. Harry sat in silence for a while, oblivious to the hands of his fellow first-years darting out for the plates of food before him.

Draco looked over to the other boy in concern, about to say something, but thought better of it. Draco though he understood how Harry felt, having been the brunt of whispers for years – being the son of Lucius Malfoy – and there hadn't been a time when he wasn't bothered by it. Sighing inwardly (for Malfoys never sighed), Draco reached out for the silver serving spoon and heaped a pile of still-steaming scrambled eggs and a couple of sausages onto Harry's plate, followed by a buttered bread roll and some slices of fruit. Draco nudged his friend.

"Harry, eat."

Finally, Harry seemed to realise where he was and jerked himself out of the place he'd wandered to. The smell of the perfectly cooked breakfast on his plate wafted deliciously to his nose and his stomach, emptied of the food from the night before, began to rumble. He hurriedly grabbed the fork off the table and began to shove the eggs in his mouth, lest he be denied his breakfast. He didn't think he could take it if his (for once) decent breakfast was taken away.

Draco's eyes widened.

"Oi, Harry, calm down! The dishes won't disappear till you've finished. Even the Headmaster wouldn't let students starve."

"Oh. Right," Harry replied, now actually chewing before swallows. This confused Draco even further, but he said nothing of it. Just then, a fleet of hooting owls streamed into the Great Hall, carrying packages and envelopes of various shapes and sizes. Harry looked up in awe and when he turned towards Draco, about to comment on the magnificence of it all, he unexpectedly found himself looking into the large brown eyes of a neatly-groomed owl.

Recovering from his second of surprise, Harry picked up a small piece of bacon and offered it to the bird, who ruffled its feathers and nipped at the meat gratefully. The owl, finished, allowed Harry to stoke his feathers, then hooted at Draco and took flight. Only then did Harry turn his attention back to his blonde friend, and upon seeing him reading off a piece of parchment, Harry leaned closer.

…

**_Draco, _**

**_Congratulations on securing your place in Slytherin. Your father and I are most proud, although of course, we expected nothing less from you. _**

**_It seems that Harry Potter was also sorted into Slytherin. I believe you have made his acquaintance? _**

**_Your father and I have no doubt that you will do Slytherin proud. Although, do be on your best behaviour and remember that we expect no less than E's from you. _**

**_We look forward to seeing you at Christmas. _**

**_Best of luck, dear son. _**

**_With love, _**

**_Narcissa Malfoy_**

…

Both boys were so engrossed in the letter that they hadn't noticed the presence of their Professor, until a cough startled them. Harry stiffened when he recognised the drawling voice of his head of house and grudgingly turned to look him in the eye.

"Daydreaming already, _Potter_? I do hope that is not the extent of your mental capabilities."

Snape thrust a timetable at Harry, scowling. Wordlessly, the professor handed Draco his timetable and moved down the table to rid himself of the stack of timetables still in his hands. Harry sighed. _Why is it that Snape can be civil with everyone but me? _

Harry didn't think he would enjoy Potions as much as he thought.

Draco, sensing Harry's frustration, spoke.

"We have double Transfiguration first, with the _Gryffindors_." He shuddered. "At least the rest of the day isn't so bad. Defence with the Ravenclaws and History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs."

Harry was grateful for the distraction. "As long as it's magic," he mumbled.

"Well, come on then. We'd better head off. Don't want McGonagall to take points off us on the first day. Merlin knows how much she dislikes Slytherins." Draco stood up and tapped Nicholas Grimmett on the shoulder, who was in the middle of a conversation with another Slytherin – probably also in his sixth-year.

Nicholas said a goodbye to his friend and motioned for the first-years to follow him. They grouped together and left the Great Hall, heading up the marble staircase to the Transfiguration classroom.

…

It was the last day of classes before the weekend and Harry had finally familiarised himself with Hogwarts, thanks to the guidance of the sixth-year prefects. So far, Harry had counted fifty-four staircases – narrow wooden ones, wide marble ones, ones with vanishing steps, and ones that led you right where you hadn't wanted to go – and most of them moved; but he was sure there were still quite a lot more that he hadn't found.

Unfortunately, the whispers still hadn't stopped. The portraits pointed every time he walked past and the ghosts would exclaim every time he came within a metre of them, with the exception of Peeves. But, to be honest, Peeves wasn't exactly a ghost, so maybe that didn't count. Luckily for the young Slytherins, Peeves was afraid of the Bloody Baron – their house ghost – and didn't bother them as much. But, if you were an unsuspecting student from one of the other houses, you could at the least expect to be pelted by water bombs if you ever crossed paths with the poltergeist.

Argus Filch – the caretaker – was one person they learned to avoid. Nicholas and Leanne had told them on their very first day that about the nasty old Squib who was out to get as many students as possible. Even worse was his cat – Mrs Norris – who seemed to know where trouble lurked at all times and would fetch Filch in the blink of an eye. There wasn't a student in the school who didn't hate the trouble-fighting pair.

After only a day, Harry had found out that there was so much more to magic than merely waving a wand and uttering a few words. He'd also already formed an opinion on what classes he liked and which ones he would rather not attend ever again. Transfiguration wasn't too bad, aside from the fact that Weasley (as he and Draco now took to calling the redhead) had been shooting looks at him the entire lesson and looking smug whenever Professor McGonagall awarded Gryffindor a point. Draco was right. It was obvious that the Transfigurations mistress didn't think very highly of the Slytherins, for she kept glancing over at the green and silver side of the classroom every now and again and breaking into a frown.

The entire first-year cohort had been called up to the Astronomy Tower one midnight to examine the night sky through their telescopes and learn the names of various planets and constellations. The Astronomy teacher – Professor Sinistra, was essentially a night owl, and Harry instantly took a liking to her because she treated her students all the same. Herbology was fairly interesting, but the only downside once again was the Gryffindors, and especially that Hermione Granger, who simply seemed to know every single thing, much to the boys' irritation. But Harry had noticed that Neville Longbottom – that chubby boy with the toad – was really quite good at the subject, no matter how bad he was at other things. He was a Gryffindor though, so Harry didn't approach him.

"Filthy, know-it-all Mudbloods." Draco had muttered after Herbology. Although it wasn't the first time Harry had heard the word, he still didn't know what it meant, and he was determined to find out.

Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw house, taught Charms. He was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk. In their first lesson with the Ravenclaws, Flitwick had squeaked and fallen off the stack when he came to Harry's name on the register, much to the amusement of his fellow Slytherins. Aside from that incident, Harry quite enjoyed Charms – he'd levitated his feather on his first go and earned five points for his house.

The worst class of all was History of Magic. In Harry's opinion, it was a complete waste of time. Professor Binns, who taught the subject, wasn't even alive! Harry wondered how a ghost had got the position. Harry gave up on taking notes five minutes into the lesson, and by the time it ended, not a single eye in the classroom – save for Binns' – was open.

Defense Against the Dark Arts – a subject Harry thought would be most fascinating – turned out to be nothing more than a joke. The classroom smelt strangely of garlic and Professor Quirrell couldn't utter a full sentence without stuttering. Strangest of all, whenever Quirrell caught Harry's eye, his scar would flash with pain and he had to clench his teeth to stop himself from crying out. Draco was concerned, but, not wanting to worry his friend, Harry assured him it was nothing.

After four days of lessons and the nights spent in the Slytherin Dungeon, Harry had made his first real mates. Draco, of course, was his best friend. After all, he was the first wizard his own age that Harry had talked to. Harry quite liked Blaise too – the Italian had many interesting tales to tell and there was no doubt that he was smart. Theodore didn't talk much, but Harry got the feeling that the tall, scrawny boy considered him a friend. Daphne had warmed up to him after Harry and Draco had saved her from the wrath of Filch (she'd taken a wrong turn and found herself at the forbidden third-floor corridor) by striking a deal with Peeves that had delayed the elderly Squib for a precious few minutes – just enough time for the heroes to whisk the distressed damsel away. As for the other first-years, well, they remained fairly neutral to Harry; saying 'hello' when the situation warranted it, defending their fellow Slytherin from Weasley's pathetic insults and helping Harry out with homework whenever he needed it. The older Slytherins had also come to accept Harry as a housemate. They left him to his own circle and acknowledged him if they ever crossed paths. Harry also counted the sixth-year prefects Nicholas and Leanne as friends of sorts, for they'd helped him adjust to Hogwarts life and looked out for him like older siblings would (he assumed).

Harry was also very relieved that he wasn't lagging behind in his classes (thanks to the witches and wizards from Muggle families who knew nothing of their magical heritage, essentially just like him). Even his housemates, although pure of blood and raised in the magical world, weren't miles ahead of him. There were just so many things to learn that no one could possibly know them all. (Well, except maybe for Granger, who was really starting to get on his nerves). Harry was quite happy when he'd found out that the arrogant Weasley didn't fair that well either, which led to another one of Draco's 'no surprises there'.

It was a Friday morning and the air in Hogwarts Castle was one of restlessness and excited anticipation of the weekend. No one seemed to really be paying much attention to their breakfasts; most students were chatting relentlessly about their weekend plans, about Quidditch tryouts and the classes they'd had so far. Harry wasn't eating either – but not because he was listening to Draco's rambling about the Tutshill Tornadoes (the Quidditch team he wholeheartedly supported) nor because he was planning for his free weekend hours. No – Harry wasn't eating because he'd been dreading this day since he'd properly examined his timetable – he would be having double Potions today, and as if two hours with Snape wasn't enough, they were having the lesson with the Gryffindors. Harry scowled and pushed his eggs in circles on his plate.

"…so, do you think Tutshill will win this season?"

"Huh? Tuts- wait, what?" Draco's question had caught Harry off guard.

Draco shook his head in mild annoyance. "Really, Harry? Weren't you listening to anything I said?"

Harry blushed and kept silent. Draco took that as a yes. "So, what about your eggs have you so fascinated?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, not wanting the blonde to know he was so worried about Potions and Snape.

Draco didn't buy it. He had a suspicion of what the other boy was thinking about. "It's Snape, isn't it?"

Harry paused in the midst of playing with his food and met Draco's eyes. "How'd you know?"

"I'm smarter than you give me credit for, Potter." Draco glanced toward the staff table and saw Snape's eyes narrowed on the Gryffindor table. Draco smirked, knowing just how to assure his friend. "You know, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Snape can't hate anyone more than the Gryffindors."

…

Half an hour later, the Slytherins found themselves at the corridor outside the Potions classroom. They filed in as a group and headed towards the tables on the left – Harry and Draco picked a table at the back of the classroom; Theodore and Daphne took their seats at the table right in front of them; Tracey and Blaise chose the middle table; Pansy and Millicent settled for the table second-to-front, and Vincent and Gregory were left with the unlucky table right in front of the professor's desk. They reached into their bags for parchment, ink and quill; wanting to be prepared for the lesson.

The Slytherins shivered involuntarily as they sat alone in the classroom waiting for Snape. Although they were used to the chills of the dungeons, the Potions classroom was much colder than their common room. The room itself was quite creepy as well – lamps flickered eerily along the walls and shelves were lined with disgusting looking things floating in glass jars.

The Gryffindors, with the exception of Granger and Longbottom – who took the table at the front of their side of the classroom – barely made it to the classroom before Snape did. Harry jumped in his seat when the door slammed shut behind him, as did many of the other students. Snape brushed down the aisle in his billowing black robes and stood in front of the class. He reached for a parchment on his desk and started to take the register. When he reached Harry's name, the greasy-haired professor paused.

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_."

Hearing Weasley snicker behind his hand, Harry glared at him. Snape finished taking the register and looked up at the class. He set down the list of names and began to pace, speaking in the same almost-whisper.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." Harry scribbled down Snape's little speech on his parchment. "As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron and its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" Snape stopped pacing beside Harry's desk, studying the parchment. Feeling the black tunnel-like eyes on him, Harry stilled and nervously looked up at his professor; sure that something bad was to come. Alas, he was surprised to find the professor blink and resume his pacing. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

He stopped and turned to look at Harry. Harry thought that the professor's cold black gaze had softened slightly. But he knew it made no sense. _It's just a trick of the light._

"Tell me, Mr Potter. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Granger's hand was waving in the air but Snape paid it no mind.

Harry was puzzled. Snape had called him Mr Potter and hadn't spat his name like he'd had on past encounters. Harry probably wouldn't have realised everyone was staring at him if Draco hadn't kicked him under the table. Draco raised his eyebrows and Harry smiled at him. Harry knew the answer. He'd read about it just the night before, thanks to Draco – who'd said they needed to be prepared. Well, at least that bit of reading had paid off.

"It's the Draught of Living Death, sir." Granger reluctantly put down her hand. "Whoever drinks it will go into a very, very long sleep – almost similar to a deathlike state."

"Very good, Mr Potter. At least we have one student who knows fame isn't everything. Ten points to Slytherin."

Harry grinned, pleased. The lesson wasn't going as badly as he'd thought.

"Weasley! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Again, Granger's hand shot up.

Weasley's eyes widened. Obviously, he didn't know the answer. Harry and Draco looked at each other and smirked.

"I don't know, sir," Weasley said.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before you came here, eh, Weasley? For your information, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most potions. Let's try again. What is the difference between monkhood and wolfsbane?"

Again, Weasley didn't know the answer. Again, Granger's hand shot up into the air. Again, Snape ignored her; he continued firing questions at the redhead. The entire Slytherin side of the classroom sniggered as they watched Weasley grow more and more uncomfortable. Finally, Snape stopped. Weasley had turned almost as red as his own hair.

"Hopefully, Weasley," Snape sneered. "You will learn to be prepared for your lessons. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Scowling, Weasley glared at the Slytherins, who all smirked at him. Snape walked to the blackboard and wrote down a recipe for a simple potion to cure boils. He set them to mixing in pairs and swept around the room, criticising every single Gryffindor. Snape made his way to Harry's table. Harry stilled. Now he was sure, even with Draco there, Snape would find something to criticise him on. But in fact, Snape did just the opposite. He complimented them on the way they'd stewed their horned slugs and the perfect consistency of their potion. Harry looked at Draco and smiled.

The lesson passed fairly quickly, without Snape ever picking on him or any of the Slytherins. Sadly, there weren't any mishaps on the Gryffindor side. Harry was really quite looking forward to seeing Weasley mess up. Soon, Harry found himself leaving the potions classroom, set back by only a foot-long essay on the uses of horned slugs in various potions.

_Well, _Harry thought. _That wasn't so bad after all. _

He smiled and climbed the stairs with the other Slytherins, heading to the Great Hall for lunch.


	7. More Questions Than Answers

**Chapter 7: More Questions Than Answers**

It was Saturday. The castle was brimming with the excitement of the weekend and, unsurprisingly, the Great Hall was abuzz with chatter. It was the first day without any classes since the students had arrived at Hogwarts on September 1st, and the Slytherin first-years, especially Draco Malfoy, were in a good mood.

"We survived the first week, Harry!" Draco said, setting down his toast, silver eyes twinkling.

Harry smiled and nodded, unable to speak as he'd just stuffed a forkful of pancake and maple syrup into his mouth.

"Theodore! Time flies, doesn't it! I can't believe we've already been here a week." Draco addressed the boy sitting across from him.

Theo looked up from the book he was reading – a rather thick one, at that – and replied with a "mhm", before drifting back to the words on the open page.

Draco shook his head in disbelief and turned to Harry, mouthing: "Is he serious? It's the weekend!" Harry grinned and dug into his pancakes again.

A moment later, all but the occasional head in the Great Hall turned in the direction of the increasingly loud hooting which signalled the arrival of mail. Although Harry had seen the routine for a whole week, the sight still thoroughly enthralled him. He watched as a rather large owl with golden feathers landed regally at their table and dropped a rolled up newspaper on Theodore's book, and took flight again. The Slytherin blinked in surprise, before realising he had received a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ – the wizarding newspaper – which he'd subscribed to a few days before. He rolled it out and set it beside his book, wanting to finish the chapter he'd been reading.

"Hey Theodore, can I see that?" Harry abandoned his pancakes for the moment and motioned at the newspaper. The headline had caught his eye, not to mention the moving pictures. Theodore nodded absently and pushed the paper across the table. Harry picked the weekend version of _The_ _Prophet_ up and scanned the first page. His eyes widened the further down he read.

Seeing his friend's reaction, Draco leaned in, and peering over at the headline, his curiosity was aroused.

**_Gringott's Break-in Latest, _**the article read.**_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._**

_A break-in? At Gringott's? But father said it's the safest of places! _Draco thought, remembering his father telling him on more than one occasion that he would trust the wizarding bank with any of his possessions. (Except the ones still back at the Manor, of course.) Draco looked over at Harry, who was biting his lip, as if he knew something about the incident that Draco didn't know about. It annoyed Draco – for Malfoy's made it a point to know everything about anything – so, imitating the tone he'd heard his father use on his 'associates', asked the question that he thought would abate his curiosity.

"Do you know something about this, Harry?"

His tone didn't seem to faze the raven haired boy, seeing as Harry had been on the receiving end of that tone for eleven years. Harry seemed to consider for a moment, then his green eyes lit up and he spoke. "Yeah, that was the day I first met you, remember? Hagrid and me were at Gringott's that day and he took something out of a vault. He said it was 'secret Hogwarts business'. I think that's what whoever broke in was trying to steal!"

Draco had been on the edge of his seat the entire time, listening to every word. How ironic; instead of abating his curiosity, he'd now become even more curious! His toast was forgotten; all he wanted was to know what had been in that vault. _It must have been important_. _Why else would someone try to steal it? _Draco wondered. He couldn't see any harm in trying to find out – and, if it came to it, they could always turn away then. Then a thought came to him, and he voiced it. "Say, Harry. Why don't we go visit this… Hagrid? Maybe we'll find something out. After all, he must know something about it."

Harry grinned. That was exactly what he'd been thinking. And, he happened to know exactly where the big man lived – credit once again to _Hogwarts, A History._

"Well, come on then, let's go!"

…

The door was opened before the two boys even got the chance to knock. Leaning against the precariously wobbling doorframe, Hagrid beamed down at Harry behind his straggly beard.

"Hullo, Harry! Hogwarts treatin yer al'righ?"

Harry would've answered – except he'd been pulled into a bone crushing hug and he was having quite a bit of trouble breathing, let alone talking. Only when Harry wheezed and tried to squirm out of the embrace did Hagrid come to his senses, only to have his attention focused on the very one-sided wrestling match going on at his front steps.

It seemed that Draco had gotten himself into a little trouble of his own. Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, had pounced upon the blonde when he reached the front steps and was currently drooling all over Draco's fairly new school robes. Draco was trying to push the four legged creature away, but his efforts were in vain.

"Fang! Com'ere! Leave 'im alone!" Hagrid barked, though his tone had a touch of amusement in it. Fang barked and licked Draco again, before reluctantly letting go and heading back towards the hut. Hagrid stepped aside and held the door open, motioning the boys in. Harry stepped in, clutching his side from laughter. Draco stumbled in, muttering darkly and trying to smooth out his robes and hair. (But he'd actually quite enjoyed that, though he wouldn't ever admit it.)

Hagrid closed the door and steered them towards the table, where the two boys plonked themselves on the chairs way too high for them – their feet weren't even touching the floor. The two boys looked around the room. It wasn't much, but it was cosy. There was a fire raging in the fireplace; hams and pheasants hung haphazardly from the ceiling and in the corner was a large bed with a thick patchwork quilt over it. As Hagrid busied himself with a teapot on the hearth, Fang again bounded over to Draco and nuzzled him. Draco gave in and petted the enormous dog behind the ears, drawing a chuckle from Hagrid, who'd placed a plate of rock cakes on the table.

"This is Draco," Harry told Hagrid, who was reaching over for the teapot. Hagrid nodded and looked Draco up and down.

"So, yer a Malfoy, eh? Never thought I'd 'ave one in me house." Hagrid shook his head and chuckled. "An' Fang seems ter really like yer. Never seen 'im like that fer some time."

Hagrid set out three bowl-sized cups and started to pour out tea for them, which the boys quite enjoyed – it had just the right amount of sugar. Harry made the mistake of biting into a rock cake and he heard his teeth crack, but not wanting to offend Hagrid, he pretended to enjoy it. Harry did most of the talking; telling Hagrid about their first week of school. Hagrid frowned when Harry mentioned Filch and Mrs Norris, and he muttered something that sounded like "I'll set Fang loose on that cat someday". But Hagrid spoke a little louder than he'd meant to, for both boys heard and laughed. Harry told Hagrid about Snape – how Snape had gone from hating him to whatever it was now. He talked about Slytherin, about Theodore and Blaise, and Draco interjected with comments of his own. There was a silence when Harry finished, then Hagrid said what he'd wanted to say since Harry's sorting.

"Honestly, Harry, I din' think you'd go anywhere other 'an Gryffindor. But yer seem happy in Slytherin, and yer seem ter 'ave made some fine friends," Hagrid smiled at Draco, who puffed out his chest at the compliment. "So Slytherin can't 'ave been too bad, eh?"

Harry nodded. "I don't think I'd have been happier anywhere else, Hagrid."

"S'long as yer happy, Harry. Merlin knows what those You-Know-Who and blasted Muggles did to rob you of the happiness you so rightly deserved," Harry's expression changed to one of gloom and something so much like hate flashed in his green eyes as Draco shifted uncomfortably, not just due to the mention of Voldemort. The Malfoy heir had cogs turning in his mind – he hadn't failed to notice Hagrid's use of 'those blasted Muggles' and the dark look that crossed the man's face. Draco, who hadn't heard much about Harry's life at home, resolved to ask his fellow Slytherin about it sometime later.

"Still, just watch out fer yerself down in those dungeons." Draco narrowed his eyes at the implication the statement carried. Draco Malfoy, after all was a Slytherin through and through, and no one with a sense of self-preservation would offend the name of Salazar Slytherin. Harry didn't seem to think much of it, though, because he agreed and turned to Draco with a pointed look. Draco nodded. It was time to ask what they'd come here for.

"Um… Hagrid, we um… just wanted to ask you something. We saw the article in the paper about the Gringott's break-in and you know how we were at Diagon Alley that day?" Harry nervously met Hagrid's eye, who was looking increasingly flustered. "Did it have… you know… anything to do with you took out of that vault?" The big man's eyes widened.

"No. It's got nothin' ter do with that," Hagrid denied a bit too quickly, not meeting their eyes. "Why would yer think that?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. He certainly wasn't about to believe that. It really was a lousy attempt at lying. _Hagrid could never be a Slytherin if he tried. And, well, Harry could definitely do better. _He looked at Harry and was relieved to see that from the dubious look the other boy threw at Hagrid, Harry hadn't believed it either. Still avoiding eye contact, Hagrid stared down into his tea cup, and the two Slytherins were left to their own thoughts. After a moment of silence, Draco offered them all a reprieve from the awkwardness that was starting to fill the confined wooden space.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Hagrid." Draco actually meant it for once – unlike all the other times he'd been made to say it during his parents' social events. "But we should probably head back to the dungeons. Blaise mentioned a game of Exploding Snap."

Hagrid grunted and showed them out.

"Bye Hagrid. We'll see you soon." Harry waved back at Hagrid, smiling as Fang barked his own goodbye.

Although the walk back up to the castle was fairly silent, the two first years were burning with curiosity. _What exactly was in that vault that could be so valuable? Why had Hagrid gone to collect the package? _Harry and Draco both knew that Hagrid was hiding something – and that something had to do with the break-in. Just how it all tied in, they didn't know. But they were going to find out.


	8. Troubled Flight

For the first time in Harry's life, time seemed to fly by. _Seems like there is truth to the saying after all, _Harry thought. _Time does fly when you're having fun._ The weeks that passed after the 'Hagrid Incident' (as Harry, Draco, Theo and Blaise referred to it) brought no further clues as to what Hagrid was hiding, and that particular mystery slipped to the back of their minds, for there was something much more important (the boys thought so, anyway) ahead of them – flying lessons. The first flying lesson was scheduled for Thursday and all the Slytherin boys were restless with excitement. Not even the fact that they'd be sharing the class with Gryffindors could dampen their spirit. As Draco had said (Harry had frowned, he would rather everyone got along) – "Let's not pass on a perfectly good opportunity to insult the Weasel."

The main topic of chatter at the Slytherin table on Thursday morning revolved around flying. Draco, as he had been the past few days, was complaining about that fact that first-years weren't allowed a spot on the house Quidditch teams. He boasted about the flights he'd embarked on back at home, which for some reason always ended in nerve-wracking brushes with Muggle helicopters. Harry doubted the truth behind these stories – he wondered how Draco, with the upbringing that he had, would even know what a helicopter was. But Draco wasn't the only one. For once, Vince and Greg weren't piling up their plates with the breakfast laid out before them and were telling everyone who would listen that they'd spent their entire childhoods flying around the countryside.

Harry, however, had never flown in his life, and he was feeling quite worried. He'd been as excited as the others just the day before, but now, when the day had finally come, Harry was getting cold feet. He tried his best to pay attention to the stories, really, he did. But his thoughts throughout breakfast just refused to be reined in. They ran somewhere along the lines of _I'll definitely fall off my broom the second I leave the ground and end up as a pile of mush. _Fortunately for Harry, his thoughts were interrupted by the blonde seated across from him. Draco had finally realised that Harry had strayed from the conversation; Harry was jerked back to reality at having Draco's pale face less than a wand's length away from his, the word "Potter" leaving his lips. Harry started and Draco leaned back in his seat, satisfied at the response.

"As I was saying, Harry here will do just fine. James Potter was a chaser, after all. I've heard he was a pretty brilliant one, a natural and all that. It's a shame he played for Gryffindor, and not us."

"My dad played Quidditch?" Harry asked with slightly widened eyes, somewhat reassured in his flying abilities. _I never knew my dad was a chaser! _

"Sometimes, Potter, I forget you lived with Muggles. Yes," Draco drawled. "Your father played chaser for Gryffindor."

A gleam took hold of Harry's eyes and he grinned, partly excited, partly reassured. "Thanks for telling me that, Draco. It means a lot to know something more about my dad. And, well, now there's a chance I won't fall off my broom."

Draco shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable. He hadn't ever dealt with a situation like this one. "Yeah, well, I just mentioned it, that's all. And you _will_ do fine, so don't bother worrying."

At that moment, a bright red object a distance behind Harry's head caught Draco's eye. His lip curled as he saw that it belonged to Longbottom, and the sneer turned into a smirk when he realised it was a remembrall. _Of course it would be a remembrall. And of course it would be Longbottom's. _

Even before he realised it himself, Draco's legs obliged him to stand and head for the much-too-cheerful table. But he didn't manage to take a step before he felt something hit the side of his face, stick for a moment and fall away. He whirled around with a scowl, searching for the perpetrator. _Who would dare- Of course. I don't even know if I should be angry or not. _His glare dissipated somewhat, and met with laughing green eyes, the total opposite of the perfectly innocent aura Harry was trying to convey. A laugh burst from Harry's lips and Draco glanced suspiciously at the piece of toast in his hand.

"Did you just throw toast at me, Potter?"

Harry shrugged.

Draco glared again. The conversations around him dimmed somewhat, and Draco realised that his fellow housemates were watching him, probably surveying his reaction and mentally recording it, as he knew Slytherins were wont to do. Draco flew through possible responses in his head and finally settled on one.

"Unbelievable."

Then he stalked past the Slytherin table and out of the Great Hall.

…

"Draco! Wait!" Harry panted, running to catch up to the blonde. Unsurprisingly, Draco ignored him as he had done the whole class period and continued his stride down the fresh, manicured lawn.

"Come on, Draco! Wai-Oof!" Harry crashed into the other boy as Draco stopped abruptly. Draco raised an eyebrow and Harry glanced away, chastised.

"Sorry about just now."

"Whatever."

"Are you mad at me? I'm really sorry, you know. If I'd known–"

"Harry. I said whatever. If you don't hurry, we'll be left with the worst brooms. If you could even call them brooms."

Draco resumed his stride towards the rows of brooms, where a grey haired witch, whom Harry assumed was Madam Hooch, was waiting. Harry trailed after Draco, a spring returning to his step. When Draco and Harry came into the flying instructor's line of sight, she greeted both boys with a short nod and gestured towards the brooms. Draco guided Harry along, scrunching up his face in distaste as he inspected the brooms.

"These are the best of the lot," Draco said as he came to a stop at the end of the back row, pointing to the two brooms at his feet. "You can have that one. I'll take this one."

Harry and Draco stood beside their brooms as the rest of the class trickled towards them, the Slytherins in front and Gryffindors further back. Madam Hooch frowned, no doubt annoyed by their pace.

"Come on, first years! Quicken your steps!" barked Madam Hooch, and the students hurried to follow her instructions. "Everyone stand by a broomstick! If you lot want to actually mount your brooms today, then I suggest you hurry."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of its twigs stuck haphazardly out at odd angles, looking as if no one had given it a proper maintenance in years. _If this is the best, then what are the others like?_ Harry looked back up to find that Blaise had claimed the broom next to his, and Weasley and his gang had taken the places directly in front of him. _Of all places?! Why choose the brooms in front of us? _ Harry sighed, hoping for the miraculous and near-impossible event that the ridiculous house rivalry would not extend beyond the walls of the castle.

"If you're left-handed, stand to the right of your broom. Right-handers stand on the left. Stick out your hands over your broom and say UP!" called Madam Hooch.

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry was delighted when he felt his broom leap into his hand instantly. He glanced around and saw that his was one of the few that had.

"Well done, Mr Potter," Madam Hooch said as she walked past Harry. She resumed her walk up and down the rows and addressed the class once again. "You have to mean it. You have to _want_ your broom to move. Say UP again, louder this time!"

There was more success the second time around, and Madam Hooch moved around the rows, correcting their grips and showing them how to mount their brooms properly without sliding off the end. Draco frowned and protested when she told him he'd been holding it wrongly for years and glared at the trio in front of them as they snickered at his expense.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch, taking her place back at the front. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three- two -"

Harry steadied his sweating hands and readied himself for his first time in the air. Just then, a shout rang out and he noticed that the Longbottom boy had left the ground, rising rapidly. "Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but there was nothing the pale faced, panicking Gryffindor could do. Time seemed to slow as Harry watched Longbottom glance down at the ground far below him, gasp and slip sideways off his broom. A second later, he heard a thud and a nasty crack, and the next thing he knew was that Longbottom lay facedown on the grass in a heap. Harry winced in sympathy as the rounder boy whimpered and he shot the other Slytherins a glare when they scoffed at the sight before them, effectively silencing them.

Madam Hooch rushed towards the fallen boy and bent over him, her face looking as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She reached out a hand to help Longbottom up and turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Do you understand?"

Madam Hooch looped an arm around Longbottom's shoulders and led the whimpering boy back into the castle. The moment they were out of earshot, Weasley snickered. Harry whirled around, shocked to find Longbottom's own housemate had laughed at the horrible situation.

"Did you see that? Neville can't even control a broom! I won't be surprised if Hogwarts had accepted him by mistake!"

The Gryffindors around him looked uncomfortable. Then, the familiar voice of Hermione Granger piped up to snap at the red-haired boy.

"Ronald Weasley! How dare you say something like that about Neville! He's a great friend and a better person that _you _will ever be!"

"Take that back, Hermione! It's bad enough that you're trying to show us up all the time, now you're insulting me as well?"

Draco nudged Harry. "This is going to be interesting," he whispered, as Weasley stepped closer to Granger. "A fight between the weasel and the mudblood."

Harry saw Granger take a step back and anger flared within him, directed towards Weasley. He stepped forward, brushing away the hands reaching out for his robes.

"Leave her alone, Weasley."

Everyone turned towards Harry, surprise in their eyes. A moment later Weasley's expression changed into one of contempt.

"What's it to you, Potter? Keep your filthy Slytherin nose out of our business."

"Honestly, Weasley. Could you stop this 'all Slytherins are bad' nonsense? If that's really how you think, I'd say you're the Slytherin right now."

With nothing to say to combat Harry's statement, Weasley narrowed his eyes in response. Harry smiled and turned away, claiming his victory. Unbeknownst to Harry, Weasley had drawn his wand and aimed it straight at him. Before anyone had a chance to react, Weasley cast and Harry's legs locked themselves together, toppling him in the process. Harry heard a sharp crunch and felt a searing pain in his nose as he landed face-first.

"Harry!" Harry heard Draco shout as he moaned and rolled over, clutching his steadily bleeding nose. Harry glared at Weasley, fighting the urge to hex the Gryffindor, for he knew how bad an idea that would be. Harry saw three people step in front of him defensively, and, not wanting the situation to escalate, tugged on the robes of the figure closest to him, which happened to be Draco. Harry shook his head, hoping Draco would catch his meaning. Seeming to understand, Draco raised an eyebrow back at him, but rolled his eyes and complied.

At that moment, Harry saw a flash of billowing black robes from the corner of his eye.

"What in Merlin's NAME is going on here!" Severus Snape demanded.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello again! It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry for ending this chapter in a cliffhanger, everyone, but I felt like it was the best place to end this chapter or it would end up too long. xD And I also apologise for such a late update. Really, I am. School has had me caught up, but I hope to update more frequently from now on. Thanks for sticking with me through the few months that I've been inactive and I hope you'll continue to read this fic. Please favourite, follow and review! Thanks all you beautiful people :)

P.S. This isn't a Ron or Weasley bashing fic. It's all part of my developing storyline. Stay tuned for more, alright?


	9. Dealing With It

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or anything else you recognise. All thanks go to the amazing J. K. Rowling for creating such an awesome world. I'm only borrowing her creation.

* * *

Severus Snape drew his wand, and with a glare that promised dire consequences to anyone who got in his way, stalked towards the gathering of students. The entire class fell silent and scrambled out of the path of the feared Potions Master.

"What exactly do you dunderheads think you're –" the professor growled as he approached, breaking off as his eyes fell upon the hunched figure in the middle of the crowd. Severus had his suspicions as to who the figure was, and, eyes narrowed, scanned the throng. Unsurprised as to not spotting Harry Potter, Severus sighed inwardly. _Merlin, whatever possessed the Sorting Hat? Of all people to be in my House, it had to be James bloody Potter's son. An exact copy! How did I ever imagine this menace to be anything like Lil- _

Severus cut himself off, refusing to head down that train of thought, not in front of this bothersome, foolish bunch of schoolchildren, who did nothing more than grate on his nerves. Desperately wanting to rid himself of the idiocy permeating the air, Severus directed his attention back towards the ridiculously asinine situation before him.

"How surprising," Severus said, in a voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "If it isn't Potter, pining for attention with his dramatics."

A muffled, incoherent noise drifted from the direction of the crouched Slytherin boy, and he made no move to rise. Annoyance flared within Severus and he bit out: "Potter! Get over here before you compel me to take points from my own house! "

Severus crossed his arms and glared as Potter stood, a hand over his nose. If it were possible for Severus' glare to increase in intensity, it did, when he observed the trail of blood seeping through the boy's scrawny fingers, reminding him of his own troubled youth.

"Explain." Severus growled through clenched teeth, at the exact same moment as two voices cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Sir, it wasn't his fault."

As the words left his mouth, Draco Malfoy registered the fact that he had not been alone in defending his friend. He blinked and stared at Hermione Granger in stunned disbelief, as did virtually every other head in the crowd. Even Severus raised an eyebrow in reaction. _One of Minerva's lion-headed broods defending a Slytherin? Wonders will never cease, I see, with Potter here. _

"Harry didn't do anything wrong, Professor. He was just trying to stand up for me and for his own house, and _Ronald _hexed him," the Gryffindor girl said, unperturbed by the silence and the incredulous looks (aside from the glare directed at her by the aforementioned red-head) she was receiving.

Severus inclined his head, indicating that he understood, and his disposition grew even more menacing as he glowered down his hooked nose as the Weasley boy.

"Is that so, Weasley? I had expected that even _you_ would have some modicum of sense in that dense skull of yours, but obviously, you do not." Severus resisted the urge to smirk as Weasley visibly gulped.

Severus turned back to the rest of the class and addressed them. "Do _not_ leave this area. You will wait _patiently _for Madam Hooch to return, and you will not cause further trouble, is that clear?" Around him, the students nodded, except for a handful from his own house – one of them Draco Malfoy. Severus saw the open reluctance on the boy's face, but a simple stare served to gain his agreement, although the boy did cast a worried glance at Potter.

"Potter, come here," Severus directed, and when the boy was within healing distance, he cast a muttered 'Episkey' and a cleaning spell to rid Potter's front of the growing pool of blood. Severus lowered his wand, noting Potter's slight flinch and mildly startled expression – _what, did he expect me to curse him? _"Relax, Potter. If I wanted to harm you – and I do not have any intention of doing so – I would not do it here," Severus muttered, loud enough for only him and Potter to hear, and he saw the boy's tense shoulders relax minutely.

_"_Now, we shall deal with this matter inside the castle. _Both _of you will follow me. Maybe you will regret your actions, _Weasley_, when you're in front of the headmaster." Severus swept back towards the school, the Slytherin and Gryffindor trailing behind him.

…

As he shuffled along behind his Head of House, the throbbing in his nose and the pulsing anger at Weasley slowly subsiding, Harry felt Weasley's eyes boring into the back of his skull. Harry could almost imagine the look of indignation on the Gryffindor's face, not only because he'd been caught by Snape of all people, but because a 'slimy snake' had been the one to get him into trouble, even though Weasley himself had been the instigator. _So much for socialising with other houses._ _It's even worse than it was before. But then again, there was Granger…Maybe it's not a dead end…_Harry sighed, wishing Weasley wasn't such a rash, quick-tempered, in-the-moment Gryffindor. Things wouldn't have escalated this far, and they wouldn't be hurrying down corridors and up staircases and turning in every which direction heading for Dumbledore's office. _What is Hogwarts' policy on schoolyard fights, anyway? Will we be suspended? Expelled? I can't go back there! Uncle Vern_-

Harry was pulled out of his worried musing by a firm voice speaking his name – well, surname, but he'd gotten somewhat used to it now; at least it wasn't _boy_. He blinked, wondering why they were standing around a stone gargoyle in the middle of a corridor. _Is this a secret passageway? _Harry turned his head to look questioningly at Snape, who was standing beside him, but the man's attention was not on him – rather, he stared at the gargoyle, murmuring something inscrutable. Harry jumped when the gargoyle moved out of their direct path and a grinding noise emitted from the walls; a panel sliding away to reveal a revolving marble staircase.

Without saying a word, Snape stepped onto the first stair and sent a withering look towards the boys, which they swiftly acted upon. Harry hurried for the moving stairway and looked around in fascination as it spun upwards, all of his trepidation gone for the moment. The fear returned in full force, though, when the party came to a halt in front of an oaken door fitted with a bronze phoenix knocker with seemingly life-like eyes. Glancing back, Harry was more than a little relieved to find that Weasley looked just as nervous as he felt. But before he could analyse his emotions further, the door inched open, and Harry met the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Ah, Mr Potter, Severus, Mr Weasley. What brings you here on this fine day?" Dumbledore inquired, eyes never losing their sparkle. Severus' lip curled, probably at the mention of 'fine day'. Dumbledore was unfazed, however, and held out a porcelain bowl of sweets.

"Lemon drop, anyone?"

No one answered the elder wizard, and frankly, it came as no surprise to Harry. _It isn't as if Snape is a man of manners and niceties. And Weasley, when it comes down to it, hasn't showed an ounce of courage – or any that counts, anyway. _As for Harry though, he was wary, and if he had to admit, a little jittery. Being in the Headmaster's presence would be uncomfortable in any circumstance, so what more this one – especially considering what had just happened not ten minutes ago. Harry had never had an interaction with Albus Dumbledore, and he knew next to nothing about the man, aside from books or what Hagrid or the other Slytherins had told him. _What will Dumbledore make of this? Will he side with Weasley? _Harry didn't know the answers, and that made him uneasy.

Someone – Harry assumed it was his Head of House – cleared their throat, directing all four back to the situation at hand. Harry looked up, and for a brief moment, locked eyes with the Headmaster. An unfamiliar sensation washed over Harry and he felt as if something was moving about in his head, but he shook his head, and the sensation was gone. _Weird, _he thought. _What was that?_

Dumbledore peered at Harry with those mysterious twinkling eyes, but then smiled and gestured at the plush seats that had appeared out of thin air. Hesitant, Harry looked to Snape for directions, but his Head of House seemed very much as if he would hex them all if either boy sat himself down.

Scowling darkly, Severus practically growled. "This is not the appropriate time for your frivolities, Headmaster. I highly doubt you are unaware of the skirmish that just occurred on the grounds, and I would be glad to have the perpetrator expelled. A student of my House was injured due to the impudent, irrational recklessness exhibited by Weasley, and that is utterly deplorable!"

Harry glanced at Weasley when Snape said the word 'expelled', and was more than a tad relieved when that particular word didn't apply to him. Weasley was red in the face, fists clenched and trembling slightly. Harry almost felt sorry for him – he hadn't even lasted a full term – but he knew better than most that there were consequences for everything. Harry looked away from Weasley and silently observed Dumbledore and Snape as they looked at each other, not breaking eye contact. He wondered if it was possibly to have a mental conversation – for it sure seemed to him that the two older wizards were doing just that. The room was charged with taut silence, and Dumbledore was the first to break it.

"Now, now, Severus. Surely there is no need to be so harsh? We were all young and impulsive, after all. We all made choices that we regretted, and I am sure that Mr Weasley regrets his momentary lapse in judgement. Am I right, Mr Weasley?"

Harry watched in disgust and injustice as a hopeful expression rose on Weasley's face, just as Snape shot the Headmaster a vicious glare. Weasley nodded frantically – Harry rather doubted that Weasley actually regretted it – and flicked his eyes up to meet Dumbledore's. _I see what they all mean by the Gryffindor bias – making excuses for stupid Weasley! Well, I guess I should be happy Dumbledore didn't want to punish me instead._

"You see, Severus? Boys will be boys, and confrontations are a normal part of growing up. Rest assured, Severus. I will ask Minerva to handle Mr Weasley's punishment."

Harry rolled his eyes at the sight of Weasley's face – although the arrogance that flickered across it faltered when Professor McGonagall was mentioned, it was becoming smugger by the second. _Wasn't Weasley scared out of his wits just a minute ago? _ _Gryffindors are ridiculous. Honestly! _Harry glanced to the side and winced – Snape's eyes, aimed at Dumbledore, were burning with a cold ferocity that brought a whole new meaning to the phrase 'if looks could kill'. But it didn't seem to shake the aged wizard at all. _I guess that's one of the reasons why he's the Headmaster, then. I didn't think anyone could withstand a look of that sort! _

Still gazing at his professors as he was, Harry felt more than saw the smirk forming on Weasley's face. A twinge of annoyance shot through him, but he suppressed it – after all, a Slytherin knew when to fight his battles, and now was not the time. He could always get back at Weasley later – there was ample opportunity – and with Draco and the others behind him. The thought of Weasley doused in green slime and with silver dots covering his robes was enough to make him satisfied, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

Harry suddenly found himself the centre of attention and he silently berated himself, the laughter dying in his throat. He turned his eyes towards the floor and shifted on his feet, heat slowly rising in his cheeks. But he was saved from the awkwardness by Dumbledore, of all people.

"This incident is settled, then. I don't see that there should be any problems with that arrangement. Now, why don't we all go back to what we doing before this? Enjoy your day, gentlemen."

Although Dumbledore's incessant twinkling and needlessly jovial tone irked Harry, plus the fact that Weasley had practically gotten away with it, he knew a dismissal when he heard one, and he was more than happy to leave. Harry nodded politely to the Headmaster and headed for the door. He descended the staircase, wanting to put as much distance as possible between him and the office he had just left – he certainly didn't want to ever be back up there again, if he could help it. Then he saw a flash of red hair as someone brushed past and knocked him, hard. _Stupid Weasley! Going back to boast to everyone all about that, I bet! _Harry's hand itched for his wand, but he definitely wasn't foolish enough to do anything here, seeing as he hadn't even reached the corridor.

Harry was still rubbing his arm when a hand landed on his shoulder. The second after he recoiled, he began to rebuke himself, hoping that whoever it was hadn't realised. Harry slowly turned his head and found himself looking directly at Snape, whose eyes were swirling strangely. _Damn. Obviously he noticed. _Harry flicked his eyes away from Snape's, possibilities as to why he was held in place fluttering though his mind. His speculating was halted when Snape spoke.

"My office. I want a word."

Harry stiffened, but nodded in acceptance and fell into step behind Snape, heart pounding fiercely.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for being so patient, everyone! Sorry for the wait! Especially since I ended the previous chapter like I did. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, review and favourite!


	10. A Startling Discovery

**Disclaimer:** As always, the Wizarding World isn't mine**. **All credits to J. K. Rowling for creating the amazing world and letting us play within it.

* * *

Harry followed Snape in a daze; apprehension settling in his gut. He had no idea why Snape wanted to talk to him now, when he'd never sought to do so before. Harry searched through his most recent memories frantically, wondering if he'd done something to set the man off. Aside from being on the receiving end of Weasley's wand, Harry couldn't think of anything else that Snape would remotely care about. _So why are we heading to his office? _

Occupied in his thoughts as he was, Harry barely noted the suits of armour and paintings that they passed. The trip down to Snape's office seemed to take no time at all; although Harry knew that the Headmaster's office was actually quite a fair distance away from the dungeons. They walked past the Potions classroom and the entrance to the Slytherin common room, before coming to a stop in front of a portrait of a snake charmer. Harry stared at the painting, captivated by the cobra's measured movements and the charming tune being played. The music gradually faded and the snake returned to its original position in the reed basket. The charmer made eye-contact with the Professor and nodded at the given password, which was spoken too quietly for Harry to hear. As the door swung open and Snape stepped into the office, Harry heard something that made him pause.

"_Thisss routine is ridiculousss. Why do I bother to play along?_"

"Hello?" Harry's voice echoed in the silence.

Snape turned around, annoyance in his eyes. "What are you doing, Potter?"

"I heard something." Harry's eyes darted around the stone corridors and fell upon the painting, where the snake had peeked its head out of the basket, its tongue flicking back and forth.

"_You are different, young one. Not like the other humansss."_

Harry turned emerald-green eyes onto the snake's black ones, remembering his previous encounter with a snake.

"_You mean me? Why?"_

_"You ssspeak our language, young one, and you –"_

Harry wasn't able to hear the rest of the snake's sentence, as he had been grabbed and pulled roughly into the dimly lit room. Harry exclaimed as he rubbed his arm. "Hey! What was that f–"

Harry cut himself off when he saw Snape gesturing swiftly at the door with his wand, eyes wide and uncharacteristically frantic.

"Sir? What's wrong?"

Snape whirled on Harry, eyes flashing. "_You _are asking _me_ what is wrong?" Harry flinched, and Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in an obvious effort to control himself. "Merlin, Potter. Could you have been any less subtle?"

"What, Professor? What did I do?"

"Are you truly that ignorant, Potter?"

Harry felt a flush creeping up his cheeks and shrugged, refusing to look the Professor in the eye. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Another thing I don't know. _

"Look at me, Potter."

Harry brought his eyes up, albeit reluctantly, and met Snape's scrutiny. He winced internally at Snape's hard expression.

"I'll take that as a yes, then. You truly are as ignorant as you seem."

Harry desperately wanted to make a snide comment about how he'd lived in a cupboard under the stairs for eleven years, without even knowing magic was real and so, _of course _he wouldn't know much, but he knew that it would not bode well for him to anger his Potions professor, so hit bit his tongue and shrugged – again.

"Cease your infernal shrugging, Potter. I highly doubt verbal replies would kill you."

Again, Harry had to stop himself from saying something that he would regret – that he'd never been asked a question anyway and so, how could he possibly reply?

"Sorry, sir."

Harry saw a hint of something in Snape's usually expressionless eyes – Was it surprise? But what for? – before it was gone not a second later. Harry fidgeted as Snape stared unblinkingly at him, and he wondered what part of him had the man so unduly entranced. Finally, Snape pulled away and gestured for Harry to take a seat by the table. Harry bounced uncertainly on the balls of his feet, hesitant. _What did the professor even want with him anyway?_ _And what was that all about? _Harry still hadn't figured it out, but he was almost certain that it was imperative that he remained in Snape's office if he wanted to find out, so sit he did.

Harry felt Snape's eyes bore into the back of his skull – a hawk-like gaze –, almost as if he didn't trust Harry to not cause a catastrophe even whilst sitting. As the professor took his own seat on the opposite side of the desk, Harry flicked his eyes around the room, only just able to make out the outlines of jars in the gloomy, dim light of the office. The shadows hid shelves lined with myriad jars, and Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the _things _contained within them. He shuddered, eyes flickering back to the desk, upon which were piled stacks of parchment awaiting grading by the set of red-inked quills that stood in the corner.

"Have you heard of the term 'Parselmouth', Potter?"

"A 'Parselmouth'? What…what is it?" Harry asked, as he glanced meekly up at his professor.

"The term is given to one who can converse with snakes...and in some…circles, Parselmouths are not considered to be very respectable. Prior to this moment, I had believed there to be only one living wizard with that particular ability."

Harry sucked in a breath. "I…it's not something everyone can do? I thought...I thought it was normal here, you know, not something frea-"

Harry grimaced and cut himself off, suddenly remembering his present company.

"Who's the other Parselmouth, sir?" Harry asked, in haste to cover up his blunder.

He squirmed and chanced a glance at the man, who had yet to shift his stare away from Harry. Harry was helpless to do anything as Snape continued to stare, which was rather unnerving, to say the least.

"The Dark Lord."

The answer came out unexpectedly and with no warning, startling Harry with its bluntness.

"W-what? Voldemort?"

The next moment found Harry mere inches from Snape's fury-lined face. The older man's fingers dug into Harry's arm as he hissed the words that sparked fury in Harry himself.

"What is _wrong_ with you, _boy_? _Do not say his name!" _

"What's wrong with _me_? Are you kidding? What's wrong with _you_? Why is everyone so afraid of _one stupid name?!_" Harry gestured wildly. "And – and stop calling me _boy _like I'm some sort of – "

All of a sudden, as if someone had pressed a button to make him freeze, Harry stopped and stiffened, eyes widened in fear. _What on earth had possessed him to say all that? And to Snape!_ Harry dared not look in the Professor's direction, afraid of what he might find there. Instead, he pressed himself against the hard back of the chair, as far away from Snape as he could get.

Eyes squeezed shut, Harry shivered, expecting Snape to lash out. Snape's reaction, however, wasn't anything like he had anticipated.

"How _Gryffindor _of you."

_What? _

"I suggest, Potter, that you keep in mind you are a member of _Slytherin _House."

_What?_

Harry stared bewilderedly at Snape and opened and closed his mouth, unable to say a word. _No points off? No detentions? No…punches?_ Harry's bewilderment turned to caution, unsure how to react. Eventually, he settled for apologies.

"Your stuttering is disrupting the silence."

"Still, I'm really sorry, Professor Snape. Really. I shouldn't have… disrespected you like that."

Harry knotted his hands together and pleaded with his eyes, desperately hoping that Snape would see the genuine apology. Again, Harry noticed the glint of surprise in Snape's eyes, before he inclined his head, in what Harry assumed as acceptance of the apology. Harry sighed in relief. Then –

"Get out, Potter."

_What?_

Harry's breath hitched.

"But-but why? I thought– I mean, yes sir."

Harry fisted his robes, feeling tears in his eyes. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, to be honest. _Why had I expected it to be different? It wasn't as if Snape hadn't made his feelings known from the start. _

"I meant, that now is hardly the time to resume this conversation. Tomorrow, Potter, when you are settled. See me straight after dinner."

Harry loosened his hold on his robes, blinking.

"Oh."

_Harry Potter, you're an idiot._

"Oh, indeed. Return to your dormitory, Potter. I will inform Mr Malfoy to take your lunch there."

"Yes, sir."

"Go on, get out."

Harry nodded and headed for the door, waves of relief cascading over him. Harry paused when Snape called his name, hand resting on the doorknob.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do try to refrain from mentioning your ability to anyone. Mr Malfoy included."

"Of course, Professor. I won't say anything."

"Good."

"I'll see you tomorrow then, sir."

Snape nodded, and Harry exited, the door shutting with a click. Wasting no time, Snape hurried to the mantelpiece and seized a sizeable handful of Floo powder, before throwing it into the glowing embers of the hearth.

"Headmaster's Office!" Snape declared, worry in his eyes, before he too was gone, leaving the Potion Master's office silent once more.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh my gosh! It's been three months since the last update. So sorryyyyy for the long wait. No excuses, I know, but my mind has been blank for quite a while, and it was quite tough to write this chapter, to be honest. It's short, and not one of my best ones, but I still hope you liked it. As always, I appreciate reviews, and please favourite and follow! :)


	11. Conversations

**Disclaimer:** Nope, ownership of Harry Potter hasn't changed since the last time I posted. Still don't own it, probably never will. (But I hope.)

* * *

In Harry's opinion, the next day couldn't have passed any more slowly. Each class seemed twice as long – even Charms, which usually excited Harry, couldn't stop his constant fidgeting – and Harry barely registered anything his professors had said. Weasley made things even more unbearable, what with his smug looks and cocky air. With each verbal jab that Weasley and his two tag-alongs sent his way in between classes, Harry was growing more irritable. _Maybe I shouldn't stop Draco from hexing them the next time. _

The odd looks that Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom and even Percy Weasley threw at him during breakfast and lunch, when they thought he wasn't looking, made him squirm. Draco's scrutiny and the indecipherable look in Blaise's eyes didn't help any, either. By the time dinner arrived, and several of his housemates had still not ceased their staring, Harry was more than ready to retire to his dorm and never show his face again. Harry voiced his thoughts to the two boys tucking in across from him.

Draco snorted and Blaise smirked.

"Well, seeing as you're _Harry Potter_…"

"You'll be living with it your whole life." Draco said, completing Blaise's sentence.

Harry rolled his eyes in a mix of exasperation and disgust.

"But _why_? Doesn't anyone realise that I was _one year old; _and I didn't actually _choose _to be an _orphan_?" Harry expressed bitterly.

"But they aren't looking at that, Harry," Draco said in reply, his gaze changing into something akin to sympathy. "People aren't looking at a boy who lived, they're looking at _the_ _Boy-Who-Lived._ You're the hope of our world; their saviour. And to them, that's who you are."

Harry stared at Draco, his dinner half-forgotten.

"To them, you're not the boy who had to learn about all this from _books _and couldn't tie his tie correctly for an entire week, or who let a _dog_ slobber all over his robes, or the boy who was worried about _flying_. You see, Harry, you're always going to be seen as _Harry Potter, _and, I guess…it's not something you can escape from."

Harry fiddled with his cutlery, contemplative. Now that he really thought about it, Harry had to acknowledge the truth behind Draco's words. _But since when was Draco so…wise? _

"Slytherin's shoulders, Malfoy! When the hell did you become a Ravenclaw?"

Blaise, who had unknowingly echoed Harry's thought, grinned at Draco's spluttering.

"But just so you know, _Harry_, to me, you'll always be the git who threw a slice of toast at my face," Draco said, catching Harry's eye, after sending a half-hearted glare at Blaise.

A warmth fluttered through Harry at hearing that, and his smile reached his eyes. "Yeah… you're never going to forget that, are you?"

"Forget? What do you mean, 'forget'? What's there to forget?"

Harry rolled his eyes – playfully this time – and flicked a stray crumb of food at Draco, who feigned offence and dusted off his robes as if it had come into contact with a flubberworm.

"Oh, thank you, Harry. That's another thing I'll never forget."

Laughing, Harry replied. "Stop, Draco. I still have to go see Snape, remember?"

Draco sat up straighter, setting down his fork and knife. "There's something you're not telling me, Harry. You didn't answer anything I asked you yesterday, and you shouldn't even have to go back there in the first place, since Weasley obviously doesn't have to. Does he?"

"You're not in trouble, are you?" Blaise added, trying to fish for more information.

Harry avoided the boys' eyes. "No… I'm not in trouble, and no, Weasley doesn't have to. It's just… well… Snape has some stuff he wants to talk to me about."

Draco leaned back and crossed his arms, his face the epitome of scepticism. "If you say so."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled as he flicked his eyes towards the slice of pork on his plate and speared it. "Well… we'd better finish. Dinner's almost over."

…

Fifteen minutes later, the Great hall slowly emptied, and the Slytherins, full from the sumptuous evening meal, trickled back down the stairs to the dungeons.

"Coming, Blaise?" Draco asked, both he and Harry pausing just past the entrance to the common room.

Blaise shook his head and waved them on, hanging back to chat with Theo.

"Later, then," Harry called, and walked further down the corridor, Draco alongside him.

As the chatter of the students faded away behind them and the omnipresent chill of the dungeons grew even more pronounced, Draco spoke.

"You do know that you can tell me anything, right?"

Harry slowed, rubbing his sleeves. "I know."

And they fell back into silence.

Pretending not to notice Draco's searching gaze on him, Harry continued on, warring thoughts rampaging through his head. _I told Snape I wouldn't tell anyone… even Draco. But… it's Draco. If Draco can't know… then why can Snape know? But… I'm not meant to tell… _He would've trekked right past the portrait – the very same one that had him back here – if not for the light tap on his shoulder.

"Dreaming about me, Potter?" Draco snickered, eyes glinting with mischief, unaware of how close he was to the truth. He turned his head in the direction of the door, just missing the spark of alarm in Harry's eyes.

"Nice snake," he commented, and reached out a finger, intent on stroking the reptile (mere painting though it may be).

– and the door swung open.

Draco almost tripped over his feet in his haste to step back.

"S-sir."

"Mr Malfoy. Potter's personal escort, are you?" The professor drawled, towering over the boys.

"Yes, sir. I mean – no. I mean–"

Harry interrupted, relieving Draco of the flustered answers he had been stuttering out. "Evening, Professor Snape."

Draco shot Harry a look of gratitude – even he found the man intimidating, more so than his own father – and if Harry was not mistaken, he thought he saw the corners of Snape's lip twitch at the action.

"Evening, Mr Potter," Snape echoed, in a vastly different tone, drawing out each word. "I was under the impression that there is no present danger to your person."

"Yeah? That's right, isn't it?

"I am rarely wrong, Mr Potter. Therefore, is Mr Malfoy's role not redundant?" Snape raised a sardonic brow, eyeing Harry expectantly.

"Oh – no, sir. Harry didn't ask me–"

Snape held up a hand, stalling Draco's explanation, and stepped away from the doorjamb.

"I do not care to understand your motivations, Mr Malfoy," He jerked his head at the door. "In, Potter. And Mr Malfoy, if you are indeed so needlessly concerned as to your friend's safety, you may return in an hour."

Draco nodded, just a little bit reluctantly, thinking that his concern wasn't unnecessary. "Alright, sir. Thank you. See you later, Harry."

Draco waved and headed back in the direction of the common room, not in any particular hurry, while Snape entered his office behind Harry, casting a _Muffliato_ on the door behind him.

…

Harry swept his eyes around the room, spying the exact same conditions – except for the larger stack of student's assignments and a bookmarked tome lying beside them on the professor's desk – as his previous visit.

"You have done as I instructed, I believe."

Harry stopped his observation of the room upon hearing the voice behind him. He spun around to face the professor, relieved that he had not given in to the temptation to tell Draco – not yet, anyway. Brushing his fringe away from his eyes, he answered, truthfully.

"Yes, sir, I have."

Snape returned it with a curt nod and stalked to the desk, taking his seat and gesturing for Harry to do the same. Snape thought back to the previous day – Albus had not been particularly surprised, nor concerned, but Snape was, and he would keep an eye on the boy either way. Harry sat in silence, eyes drawn to Snape's perfectly steepled fingers, as the man rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and leaned forward to survey Harry. Snape stared down the bridge of his nose at Harry, before, after a minute or so of squirming and eye-avoiding on Harry's part, Snape finally broke the silence.

"Where were we, Potter? Before we were so rudely interrupted?"

Harry flushed a bright red, but knowing that he could not dodge the question – for Snape was not one to be kept waiting for a response – he answered.

"It – it was – you were talking about Vol – I mean, You-Know-Who," Harry quickly corrected, remembering his _idiotic _outburst and the professor's overly strong grip from the day before. "How we're the same… and… sir, it's just Harry, not Potter." Harry mumbled, looking anywhere but at Snape, and so, failed to spot _that_ weird, mysterious look in Snape's eyes.

"Do you truly believe so," Snape enquired, then hesitated. "Potter? About yourself and the Dark Lord being 'the same', as you put it."

Harry looked through his eyelashes at Snape. _Now that I think about it…_ "Sort of, I guess…"

"Explain, Potter, how you have come to that conclusion."

"We're both Parselmouths… you said. And – and he was Slytherin."

"That does not constitute being _'the same'_. By your reasoning, in the improbable event of Mr Malfoy showing the ability to speak Parseltongue, it will allude to you and him being 'the same'. Such a simplistic, _Gryffindor_ mentality will do you no good in Slytherin. Keep that in mind, Potter."

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor," Harry finally muttered, recognising the error in his thinking.

"What was that, Potter?"

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor."

"I cannot say that I am surprised."

Harry jerked his head up to look his professor full in the eye.

"Although, I do wonder, why you chose as you did. I had expected… a different outcome."

Harry smiled thinly, the answer on his lips. He knew why he had chosen Slytherin, and he could say that he had made the right choice.

"Because of Draco, sir. I wanted to be with him. And… I didn't think I would've fit in anywhere else."

Snape leaned back, clasping his hands on the table. His eyes were fixed on Harry, and it seemed as if he was searching for something. Then –

"I… had misjudged you."

Harry, sitting as still as his professor had been, saw the wince – an _actual _wince – that accompanied Snape's remark. He had to hide his amusement (it wasn't hard, really, with all those years with Dudley as practice), not wanting to jeopardise his current standing with the man.

"I apologise."

Another wince.

Harry could've rolled his eyes. _Was it honestly that hard? _But it meant a lot to Harry; he could not recall a time when an adult had apologised to him (if one ever had), even for holding erroneous perceptions of him, as most adults in his Muggle life did.

"There's no need to apologise, sir. You're not the first."

"Not the first?"

Harry didn't realise how his casual statement could reveal details he'd much rather forget until it was pointed out to him, but the 'the-truth-or-else' look on Snape's face dissuaded him from passing it off as nothing.

"The Dursleys told everyone I'd be going to St. Brutus'. And everyone believed them."

At Snape's look of confusion, Harry elaborated. "St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"Ah."

"It wasn't actually that surprising, considering what else they believed, without even _looking _at _me_," Harry said, hurt in his voice.

"I see," Snape breathed, staring into the startling green eyes – _Lily's eyes _– that held too much for one so young_. _

Snape evaluated Harry in silence for a moment, processing the rather unexpected information he had gleaned from the boy. Never had he imagined Potter to be quite so unlike his father… what more living a life other than one of luxury, if Potter was to be believed. He didn't want to accept it as truth, for that would mean he was even more mistaken than he was prepared to admit. (But his instincts screamed of Potter's honesty, and he was not one to disregard his instincts. And those _eyes _– _Lily's eyes_ –

"But I'm fine here, sir. I've never been better, and Hogwarts is… well, a home. It's wonderful."

Snape was drawn out of his reminiscing by the pure joy in Harry's voice.

"But sir... when you said… was I – am I actually meant for Gryffindor?"

Snape frowned. _Damn wizards. Nothing is ever simply black and white. _"I am sure you are aware of Slytherin's reputation, Potter, and that someone such as you would never have been expected to be sorted here. It was a shock, to say the least, when the Hat made its decision, and so narrow this world is in their beliefs, that it is not something easily forgotten, or accepted. But the Hat has its reasons, Potter. I may not be privy to them, but I do not doubt that it placed you where you belong."

Harry beamed. No matter if Snape could've said it in much fewer words. Harry had heard what he needed to hear. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape returned it with a nod, an unexpected feeling of satisfaction at making Lily's son smile gripping his heart. Then, annoyance flared as his holstered wand heated in his sleeve, alerting him to the presence outside his office. _Malfoys always have to have it their way, don't they?_ _Like father, like son. _Unconsciously making the exact same assumption as he had with the Potters (an assumption he should've learned not to make, really), he rose, rolling his eyes.

"It seems that Mr Malfoy has not learnt the art of patience. Nor does he appear to be able to follow explicit instructions." Snape sneered, at the questioning look from Harry.

Harry bristled at the scorn aimed at his best friend. "Draco's a good friend, sir. He's done a lot. And he's probably just worried, that's all."

"Believe what you wish, Potter," Snape replied, still not willing to believe that Draco Malfoy only harboured good intentions. After all, the elder Malfoy was not one to be trusted, and he had had inside knowledge. "Just stay alert. And if you wish to come to me… tell Mr Srinivas – the snake charmer – so."

And with that, Snape stalked to the door, throwing it open.

"I believe I said _an hour_, Mr Malfoy."

Draco jumped at the sudden appearance of the Professor.

"Professor Snape!"

"Obviously."

"I – I didn't think that – I couldn't just wait there while – " Draco made a vague gesture with his hand. "You never seemed to have an interest in Harry, before."

"What I take an interest in is no problem of yours, Mr Malfoy. And if you believe I have _harmed – _" Snape sneered " – your dear friend in any way, you may ask him yourself."

Snape turned to Harry, who had not moved from his seat but was frowning at the professor's change in attitude, and jerked his head at the door. He rolled his eyes again at Draco's sweeping scan of Harry, and as the boys took their leave –

"You may find that reading Chapter Nine of your textbooks will benefit you in the next lesson."

The boys paused and turned around, eyes widening, but the professor had already disappeared from view. _Snape would give them that advice? _But advice was advice, and they would make full use of it.

…

"Well, that was weird."

"It was."

"So, what did you talk about?"

Harry smirked. Draco wouldn't believe it. "He apologised to me."

"What?!"

* * *

**A/N:** That was great fun to write, although it took a while (but I was on holiday, so...), and I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it! Reviews, follows and favourites are always appreciated! Until next time :)


	12. All Hallows Eve

**Disclaimer: **I don't think it needs saying, but Harry Potter doesn't belong to me.

* * *

As the days became weeks, and the last leaves fell, and the inhabitants of Hogwarts donned their scarves, Harry didn't return to Snape's office. Yes, he had to admit that their previous meeting, or whatever you wanted to call it, had been quite alright, but still, something nagged at him. He wasn't quite sure why, or what, and Snape was decent enough to him in their classes and when they passed him in the hall, but there was _something _about the professor that just didn't feel right. It wasn't the mundane things – if you could call them mundane – things that made him want to evade the man; not the billowing robes or the foreboding voice, nor the greasy strings of hair and harsh quill. No, it was something deeper than that, something that Harry felt he wouldn't want to know. And so, Harry stayed away. He looked the other away when Snape looked his, he brewed just well enough to pass, and he stayed under the radar, dragging a complaining Draco away from confrontations with the Weasel and his two idiotic lackeys.

All too soon, October began to wane, and Harry only just noticed it, what with avoiding Snape and Weasley, and the piling amounts of homework, and his new obsession with Quidditch (no thanks to Draco!). And all too soon, it was the thirty-first.

The day came like any other day – grey streaks of sunlight edging past the curtains, the quiet except for Vince's intermittent snores, the purring of Blaise's cat – and Harry was not in the least bit prepared. But not fifteen minutes later, as the boys emerged from their dreams, at Draco's casual mention of the Halloween feast, Harry almost hexed himself.

"It's Halloween?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It's Halloween," Harry whispered. "It's Halloween."

"Uh… what's wrong with Halloween?"

Harry glanced at Draco, and the raw pain and fierce longing in those lively green eyes shocked the blonde boy.

"Ten years ago, today. They… He… He came."

Draco stared blankly at Harry, as did the other boys in the room. Then, Blaise's eyes widened.

"Malfoy, it's… his parents."

"Wha- oh. Ohh. Merlin."

Harry gave the boys a faint smile.

"It's fine, Draco. It's not like… for ten years… my Halloweens weren't like this before today. You know… I didn't know," Harry shook his head. "I didn't know about any of this."

Draco opened his mouth, but Blaise beat him to the query.

"What in Salazar's name, Potter? Did the Muggles not tell you anything?"

Harry blinked, as if a deer caught in headlights. But in his moment of being caught off guard, Blaise seemed to have brushed his question off, not knowing how right he was.

"Huh. _Muggles_."

Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief and relaxed. At times like these, he was thankful for his housemates' prejudices, although he did think they weren't right, exactly. He had met Muggles that were nice, like Mrs Everett from the next street over, and James from the candy store around the corner. Of course, there were rotten Muggles too, and his relatives were proof enough. But it was the same with the Wizarding World, wasn't it? Sometimes, Harry thought that wizards were just thick. Well, except for Draco. Sometimes, Harry thought that Draco noticed too much for his own good.

Harry laughed nervously, noticing the not-so-subtle look Draco threw at him.

"Ha. Yeah. Muggles."

There was an awkward tension for a moment, before Greg broke it by rolling off his four-poster and landing with a thump and a muffled 'oof'. Blaise snorted, and soon, all six boys were in various stages of laughter, the sombre mood of this Halloween pushed to the back of Harry's mind.

…

"…honestly. It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends."

"She's got Neville."

"Neville doesn't count."

Harry wasn't the only one paying Weasley attention, if Hermione Granger's reaction was anything to go by. Harry registered the hurt and anger on her face as she brushed roughly past Weasley, and the robes bunched in Neville Longbottom's fist only incensed him further. Harry glared daggers at the side of Weasley's head, and, as if sensing it, the redhead turned around to face him.

The Weasel smirked – actually _smirked_, as if it was an accomplishment to make a girl cry_._

"Got your eye on the know-it-all, Potter?"

Harry ignored Weasley, tugging on Draco's robes for him to leave it.

"Of course, you wouldn't know anything about girls, would you? Your father wasn't around to tell you."

"Ron!"

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. From the corner of his eye, he saw Theo, on his left, wince. Before he could react – and yes, he wanted to react; Weasley wouldn't get away with it this time, no matter that he'd wanted to stay out of trouble – Draco had marched up to the Weasel, his wand out.

"How low are you going to sink, Weasel? Even the mudblood knows when you've gone too far!"

Weasley drew his wand, his face reddening.

"Who are you calling mudblood, Malfoy? Dean's more than you or Potter could ever be! "

Draco snorted.

"At least his parents aren't dead!"

Harry wasn't going to take it anymore. Not bothering to draw his wand, he stalked towards Weasley. One thing Harry had noticed was that wizards never expected physical means of retaliation. The Weasel was no exception – he never saw Harry's fist coming.

"Shut up, Weasley! Just because today's Halloween, don't think you can push me around!"

Finnegan narrowed his eyes while Weasley rubbed at the rapidly forming bruise on his cheek.

"And what's so special about Halloween, Snake?"

"His parents died ten years ago today, you prat," Draco hissed, glossing over the fact that just that morning it had been him asking that question, or a variation of it, anyway.

The Gryffindor trio paled.

"Come on, Ron. Let's just go."

"Mudblood's got that right. Shoo, Weasley."

Weasley turned hate-filled eyes on the Slytherins.

"You lot better watch out."

Harry, Draco and Theo watched their retreating backs, Harry still seething, while the rest of the gathered crowd broke out in Harry-centred conversation. Feeling eyes on him, Harry turned and met Neville Longbottom's confused gaze, before Draco flung an arm around his and Theo's shoulders, leading them towards the dungeons.

…

"Draco… what's mudblood?"

Draco answered with "dirty blood" at the same time as Theo answered with "Muggleborn".

"And… you're using it as an insult," Harry stated, a trace of anger from before lacing his voice.

"Yeah," Draco replied automatically, wondering what he'd done.

"Was my Mum a _mudblood_ then?" Harry demanded through clenched teeth.

Draco snapped his mouth shut, floundering for the right words.

"We grew up using it, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes at Theo.

"And that's just supposed to excuse it?"

Silence greeted Harry. Throwing his arms into the air, Harry stalked away, ignoring his friends' calls to wait for them.

…

"Come on, Harry, it's just a word," Draco declared as he dished a serving of mashed potatoes onto Harry's platter.

Harry raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, drawing back as a bat swooped down from the ceiling.

"Words are greater weapons than wands, Draco."

Harry stared across the Hall in the direction of the Gryffindor table, and the missing Hermione Granger. It seemed that no one else aside from Neville Longbottom noticed, or if they did, didn't care about her absence. Harry frowned and brought his attention back to his dinner, about to spoon some into his mouth, when Professor Quirrell sprinted into the Hall, his face a mask of unadulterated terror.

The Hall fell silent and everyone stared. When he reached the staff table, he slumped against it and gasped, "Troll in the dungeons – thought you ought to know," before collapsing in a dead faint. Everything descended into chaos. Screams, scrambling, panicking. It took several bright sparks and a loud bang emanating from Dumbledore's wand before order could be restored.

"Prefects," Dumbledore rumbled, "please lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately."

Sighing, Nicholas strode to the end of the table.

"Come on. Keep up. Orderly manner, everyone!"

Beside him, Draco asked incredulously: "Didn't Quirrell say the troll was in the _dungeons_?"

"I know."

"How'd it even get in, anyway?

"Beats me," Harry replied as he joined the chattering stream of students filing through the double doors, "a prank, maybe?"

"What _idiot_ would let a _troll_ into the school as a _prank_?"

Harry shrugged, then froze. He looked around frantically and caught sight of Neville, whose eyes were wide and panicked. But no Hermione.

"Draco. Hermione!"

"What about the mu- Granger?"

"She's not here!"

"So?"

"No one's seen her all day. She won't know about the troll!"

Draco turned to look at Harry, horrified.

"No, Harry! You're not serious. It's a bloody troll, and she's a-a–"

Harry scowled.

"_Fine. _But if we get killed, Harry..." Draco said, leaving his sentence hanging.

Harry tugged Draco back into the stream. As the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs descended the staircase, the duo doubled back and ducked down a deserted corridor.

"Do you even know where she is?"

Harry winced, only just realising how not-thought-through his plan was. "Uh…no?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair.

"Merlin."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps coming their way. Draco pulled Harry behind a stone statue, and peering around it, they saw Snape turning the corner and disappearing from view.

"What's Snape doing here?" Harry whispered, suspicious. "Why's he not with the rest of the staff?"

"No idea."

Quietly as possible, they crept in the direction Snape had stalked in.

"You don't think Snape set the troll in, do you?"

"Maybe."

"But why would–"

Draco was cut off abruptly by a piercing, terrified scream. Halting, they looked down the hallway they had just been about to pass.

"The girls' toilets are down there."

They looked at each other, flustered.

"_Hermione_," breathed Harry, and he dashed towards the bathroom, Draco in tow. Steeling himself, Harry pulled the door open and ran inside. A foul stench assaulted their senses – old socks and filthy public toilets, just ten times the smell.

Hermione Granger was cowering against the wall, pale and shaking, looking as if she was moments away from fainting. The troll, all twelve ugly feet of it, advanced on her and knocked the sinks of the wall as it went.

The boys stood unmoving in shock. Then, Harry pulled out his wand and shouted "Stupefy!". A jet of red light struck the troll right in the head. It grunted in confusion and lumbered around, mean little eyes catching sight of Harry.

Harry's eyes widened as he yelled at Draco to get Hermione, who was still shivering in fright.

"Hurry, Draco! We have to get out of here!"

In the chaos – Harry weaving and ducking the menacing swings of the troll's club, the crashing and smashing, and the shooting of more stunning spells – Draco forgot everything he'd been told regarding touching 'filthy mudbloods' and pulled Hermione to her feet.

"Granger! Come on!" Draco hollered, also forgetting what he'd been taught about 'Malfoys never holler', and dragged the Gryffindor out of the bathroom.

Harry bolted out right after them and slammed the door just in time. By pure luck, he noticed the key sitting in the keyhole and turned it, locking the troll in. Loud banging echoed through the wood as they scurried away, flushed and sweaty.

The trio finally came to a stop at the same corridor where they had spotted Snape, panting in exhaustion. Harry recovered first and grinned at Draco, who grinned at Herm-

Draco's grin vanished as he realised whose hand he was clutching. He dropped it awkwardly and glowered at the girl.

"What in Merlin's name were you doing in there, Granger? Couldn't you at least _run_? We could have _died _because of you!"

Hermione looked away, and Harry put a hand on her shoulder, at the same time shooting Draco a look that clearly said 'shut up'.

"Don't mind Draco, Hermione. He gets like this sometimes. Are you alright?"

Hermione mumbled a quiet "yeah".

"Good."

Hearing loud footsteps, Harry pulled the other two behind the same stone statue. McGonagall, Quirrell and Snape hurried past – they must have heard the racket. _Good thing we left before they saw us, _Harry thought. As the professors vanished from view, Harry snuck the others back towards the staircase.

"You'd better go, Hermione. Before someone sees you," Harry said, as he and Draco set their feet on the first step leading down to the dungeons.

Hermione nodded. Then, as if it had taken a lot to do so, Hermione spoke. "Thank you."

Harry smiled at her and Draco, at a nudge from Harry, inclined his head.

"We'll see you around, Hermione."

The Slytherins headed downstairs and Hermione watched them go, before turning around and running up the stairs that led to her common room.

…

One day, they would look back and realise just how much this one encounter changed everything.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me so far. I really appreciate each and every one of you. I hope you will continue to leave feedback and enjoy the rest of the story.


	13. Cerberus

**Disclaimer:** I'll assume you don't need a disclaimer.

* * *

Harry hunched over his Potions textbook, eyes darting quickly from passage to parchment, scribbling away. Draco sat across from him in the dim light, chewing on his quill and eyes glinting in amusement. The Christmas break was approaching, and as the rest of the castle were craving snowball fights and hot chocolate, the Slytherin duo were two of the only students in the Hogwarts library. Neither noticed Hermione Granger's presence until a tome slammed down on their table, interrupting their – Harry's, rather – studying. Both boys jumped; Draco almost yelping, before he caught himself in time, narrowly avoiding the wrath of Madam Pince.

"Merlin's beard, Granger. Couldn't you at least have given us a little warning?"

"Hermione! You scared me."

"Sorry, Draco. Sorry, Harry," Hermione responded, a touch of nervousness lacing her voice as she took the chair beside Harry. They were the first real friends she'd ever had, and she had resolved not to drive them off. She wouldn't.

Harry laid his quill down, flexing his sore fingers. "It's okay. Just – "

"– don't drop in like a bloody Hippogriff landed on our table next time. Got it, Granger?" Draco finished, rather put out.

Hermione nodded her assent, not catching the annoyed look Harry sent Draco's way.

"What did you need, Hermione?"

At Harry's question, Hermione straightened up, a gleam finding its way into her eyes. She took a breath, as if her next words carried great import (as a matter of fact, they did) and said: "There's a Cerberus in the third-floor corridor, and it's guarding something."

"A _Cerberus_?" Draco hissed at the same time as Harry asked: "A what?"

Madam Pince shot them a glare over her text.

"You're not serious, Granger. How would you even know that, anyway? You're as likely to go off on rule-breaking adventures as I am to be a squib."

"It wasn't on _purpose_. I was here with Neville last night and we'd lost track of time – "

"Of course you did," Draco muttered.

If Hermione heard, she pretended not to, and carried on. " – and it was almost curfew. Neville took the wrong staircase in his rush to avoid Filch, and I followed him, and somehow we ended up there. I saw it with my own eyes, Draco."

Draco stared hard at Hermione, thoughts of incompetent Headmasters and stupid fools and bloody dangerous dogs flitting through his head. Harry looked incredulously from Draco to Hermione and back, wondering _what on earth_ was going on.

"Would someone please tell me what a Cerberus is?"

Draco and Hermione answered at the same time.

"It's not anything we're going to worry about."

"A three-headed dog."

Draco shot a glare at Hermione as Harry's eyes widened.

"A _what? _Three-headed dogs are real?"

"Yes, but we are going to ignore it. Aren't we, Harry?"

Harry looked torn, glancing between Draco and Hermione. Draco could almost see the cogs whirring in Harry's head, and the curiosity winning out. To be quite honest, Draco was starting to doubt the Hat's decision. _First the troll, and now this stupid Cerberus? Is he actually trying to get himself killed? What Slytherin does that?_ Draco sighed as a gleam found its way into Harry's eyes, knowing that the younger boy had made up his mind.

Harry opened his mouth, but Draco beat him to it.

"I swear, Harry, if I so much as get a scratch on me, Mother will hear of it. And you wouldn't want that, trust me."

"Why am I even friends with you?" Draco finished in a mutter.

"You know you love me this way," Harry said, grinning.

Draco flicked his quill at Harry, although he too was smiling.

Hermione watched the exchange with a fierce longing she hadn't known she possessed, seeing the pure happiness on the boys' faces. _Maybe one day I could feel that too. Maybe one day it could be the three of us. _Absorbed as she was in her own thoughts, Hermione didn't realise that Harry had been trying to get her attention.

"Hermione!"

Feeling the tug on her sleeve, Hermione came back into reality.

"Oh! Sorry, I was just thinking."

Harry waved her apology away.

"You said that the dog was guarding something? Do you know what it is?"

"No," Hermione answered with such frustration that Draco's lips quirked in amusement.

Stifling a laugh, Harry suggested: "Why don't we go down to Hagrid? He's not a teacher, so we can't get in trouble for knowing."

Draco agreed, and the Slytherins turned to Hermione. She wasn't quite sure what to do, really. She'd never met Hagrid (aside from the boats, of course), but then, she definitely didn't want to get in trouble, and if Harry was sure they wouldn't, she would trust him. Her choice made, Hermione nodded, and Harry stood up.

"Great! Let's go!"

"Now?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Oh, come on, you want to know as much we do."

Draco spluttered in denial as Harry packed his things away, snickering.

…

A mere ten minutes later, the odd trio – two Slytherins and one Gryffindor – found themselves at the Gamekeeper's Hut. Sharing a conspiratorial glance with his friends, Harry raised his fist and knocked, and almost immediately, the sound of barking reached their ears.

"Down, Fang!" They heard, in Hagrid's familiar booming tones, and the door was pulled open. Fang made a move to lunge at the visitors, before he was hauled back, saving the three from slobber-covered robes.

"Harry!" Hagrid beamed, "And Draco! Nice ter see yer two. Oh, and who's this?"

"Nice to see you too, Hagrid!" Harry greeted, and waited as Hermione introduced herself.

Hagrid extended his hand and as Hermione shook it, already feeling comfortable and welcomed, the gamekeeper noticed the lion on her robes.

"And a Gryffindor, eh?" Hagrid asked, something like pride in his voice as he swept his eyes over Harry and Draco, motioning for them to come in.

"Yer've come at the right time, lads. Jerst made some rock cakes. Come on, yer lot, sit," Hagrid said, and he walked over to the hearth to fetch a set of cups.

Harry and Draco made a face at the mention of rock cakes, and Hermione looked at them perplexedly. The trio sat themselves down at the ridiculously large table, and Fang bounded up to Draco, tail wagging gleefully. As the boarhound licked the blonde's fingers, Hagrid set down the plate of rock cakes and poured a cup of tea for each of them.

"e's missed yer, Fang has. Why din't yer visit sooner? Hogwarts bin' keepin' yer lot busy?"

"Yeah, Hagrid, it has. You wouldn't believe it if we told you."

Hagrid chuckled. "We'll have ter see 'bout that, eh?" and the four launched into conversation.

They talked about boring old Binns, and Peeves, and the marvellous food, and the coming Quidditch game. They talked about Weasley, and Charms, and Snape, and Draco grabbed Hermione's hand before she made the mistake of selecting a rock cake. They talked about the weather and Halloween, and finally, Harry edged onto the topic of the forbidden third floor corridor.

" – and Hermione accidentally found a three-headed dog–"

"Yer saw Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" Draco exclaimed. "Fluffy? Merlin, a Cerberus named Fluffy."

Draco received a warning gnaw on his fingers for that comment, and he glared at the canine perpetrator. Fang plastered his face into a mask of innocence, and Draco couldn't help but smile. He found that he quite liked dogs, although, of course, Father would never allow him one. His smile faded at the thought.

"Right. Yes. Fluffy. You wouldn't happen to know anything about what it's guarding, would you?"

All eyes were on the half-giant as he deliberately avoided their gazes, although the flush creeping up his face told them all they needed to know.

"You do – "

In the middle of his sentence, it clicked for Harry.

"It's got something to do with that package you picked up from Gringotts, doesn't it?"

Hagrid set his cup down, shifting restlessly.

"It's not fer yeh lot ter know or meddle in. It's dangerous business. Dumbledore's business, it is. Ferget Fluffy, and ferget that stone–"

"Aha! It's a stone, is it?"

Hagrid was left speechless, looking absolutely furious with himself.

_Slytherin indeed_, thought Hermione, as Harry dragged her and Draco out of the hut, calling 'thanks' and 'see you' behind them.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, this was a short one, but I had to end it here. Thanks for following this story and as always, keep on reviewing.


	14. Of Quidditch and Offers

"Come _on_, Harry!"

"Okay, okay!"

Gathering up the titles scattered on the desk, Harry hastened to place them back in their original nooks, lest Madam Pince descend upon them, and Draco drive him mad with his excitement. Alas, Quidditch season had begun, and unsurprisingly, a good portion of Hogwarts were bursting with anticipation for the first game of the season. But even Harry, researching as hard as he was for even one clue into the whole Stone business, had to admit that he was no exception. It would be his first ever match, and more than the aerial stunts and fast-paced play that Draco and the others had described in detail, he couldn't wait to see Slytherin trounce Gryffindor. He had a rather large number of Chocolate Frogs resting on that, after all.

"The stands will fill if you don't _hurry_!"

"_Alright!" _Harry huffed, "I'm done._" _

Draco all but dragged his raven-haired friend out of the library, spitting statistics and odds and admiration as they jogged down the staircases.

" – and we'll trash those idiots–oof!"

Silence interrupted the Slytherin duo's conversation as Draco crashed into a head of frizzy brown hair just as they passed the doors of the Great Hall.

"_Watch_–,_"_ Draco began menacingly. "Oh. It's you."

"Good morning to you too, Draco."

"Granger," Draco replied, as did Harry, with a "Hey, Hermione."

Hermione smiled, tugging at the scarlet and gold scarf wrapped around her neck, and turned towards a sandy-haired boy that neither Harry nor Draco had yet noticed.

"Hand me the toast, will you, Neviile?" Hermione asked, and passed the wrapped slices of bread to the boys. "I didn't see you two at breakfast. Oh, and you haven't properly met, have you? Harry, Draco, this is Neville. Neville, this is Harry and Draco."

Neville fidgeted and stuck his hand out hesitantly. "N-neville. Neville Long –"

Harry grasped it and shook, and Draco inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"I know who you are, Longbottom."

"Right," Neville said nervously.

Harry looked from Draco to Neville, rather satisfied at the way this meeting – if you could call it that – was working out. Draco was being surprisingly civil, considering the other boy's house affiliation. But then again, Neville being pureblood probably had something to do with it.

"So," Harry said, deciding not to push Draco's civility. "You'll be sitting with the rest of your house?"

Draco cast Harry a _look_, speaking in a scowl exactly what he thought of the Gryffindors potentially sitting with them. Harry expertly ignored him.

"Yeah," Neville answered, and Hermione – of course – provided the explanation.

"The Gryffindors, well, _Ronald_ wouldn't like it if we sat anywhere else."

"Of course he wouldn't," Harry said, in an I-should-have-guessed tone, wondering (not for the first time) just how he could've turned out so different from his brothers.

"And we all already knew that so can we just _go _already?" Draco muttered.

"I'll see you later, then," Harry called over his shoulder as Draco shoved him towards the doors. "And thanks for the toast!"

…

Quidditch was _amazing_, Harry decided, and whoever had invented it was a capital-g Genius. He thought he could never find football interesting again, because Quidditch was so much better – and it wasn't even a professional match!

The blurs of emerald whizzing across the pitch – Beating, Keeping, Chasing; the Quaffle flying from Flint to Pucey to Montague and through Gryffindor's hoops; and the sheer sound of a hundred cheering Slytherins as Higgs caught the Snitch (the Gryffindor Seeker didn't stand a chance once Higgs had spotted it) and even the Gryffindor – Jordan, was it? – commentator's blatant bias couldn't put him off, but only made him more certain that he would be trying out next year.

Yes, there were some dubious manoeuvres that could've been considered cheating, but, no game was ever a hundred percent fair. And even when the Bludger had come straight for him – he was sure Rosales had aimed it in the opposite direction – and would've taken his head had Blaise not pulled him out of the way in time, Harry had brushed it off, smiling. Harry didn't care about that right now, seeing as they'd won – and of course he'd known that, which is why a box of Chocolate Frogs was now in his hands – but Draco was sure someone had jinxed the Bludger, and he wouldn't shut up about it.

"I'm telling you, Harry, that's not normal! It must've been the Weasel trying to kill you!"

Harry found that rather unlikely, if not, impossible. Weasley didn't have the skill to levitate a feather, let alone jinx that Bludger.

"I don't think so, Draco. You're giving Weasley too much credit."

Even Draco had to admit that.

"Well, then, who else would try to kill you?"

"Voldemort, maybe?" Harry answered flippantly.

Draco flinched. "Will you stop calling him that?"

Harry rolled his eyes in response. "Just forget it, Draco. No one's trying to kill me. It was an _accident_, all right? We won, and now we have a party to get to."

Draco looked sceptical for a moment, but then he deflated, "Yeah, all right," and they hurried to catch up with the rest of their year-mates heading back down to the dungeons.

…

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Harry?" Draco asked his fellow Slytherin as he placed a neatly folded outer robe into his trunk.

"Yeah, I'm sure. You should spend it with your parents. They probably miss you a lot." As Harry said it, a spark of bitterness welled up inside him, and he wished the Statute of Secrecy didn't exist, because he really wanted to charm a couple of snowballs to pelt the Dursleys, as the Weasley twins had done to Quirrell the previous week.

"Mother wouldn't mind."

"Your Dad might."

Draco's only reply was to shrug.

"It's fine. Don't worry about me. I'm not the only one staying."

"Well, Weasel's the only other first year staying."

Harry sighed. "I know, he'll be intolerable, but I'll stay out of his way. Besides, someone has to stay here to research the Stone, since Hermione's going to France."

"Well, if you're sure."

"I _am_. Just don't forget my present," Harry said jokingly.

"Oh, I won't."

"Oh. Well, I was joking. You don't have to."

Draco waved his words away. "Why wouldn't I give you a present? Or aren't you giving me one?"

At Harry's indignant expression (of course he'd gotten them all presents) Draco laughed. "Of course you'd give them without wanting them back. That's very…" Harry narrowed his eyes. "Hufflepuff."

Just then, Nicholas (the sixth-year prefect) stepped into the dorm, startling them. "Hurry up, Malfoy. Professor Snape wants the roll done," he said, then left.

"_Hufflepuff_?" Harry asked, offended. "I'm not a Hufflepuff."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure."

While Draco closed his trunk's lid and latched it, Harry threw a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face. Draco glared at Harry.

"_Wait_ till I come back."

"Yeah, yeah, have fun."

"I'll owl you."

"Okay. Don't forget."

"You're not coming?"

"No."

"Hmm. Well, bye then, Harry."

"Bye. Have a good Christmas."

Harry fell back onto his bed as Draco carried his trunk and exited the dorm, on his way home for the holiday. He stared at the grains in the wood of the four-poster, wondering how exactly he would pass the time. Despite what he'd told Draco, Harry didn't think he could spend the entire two weeks _researching. _(Merlin, he didn't know how Hermione did it.) Of course, hanging around with Weasley was out of the question – although, well, his brothers were all right. And of course, he couldn't very well go flying either, seeing as he didn't even own a broom. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, fishing for memories he knew weren't there. Piles of presents, steaming cups of hot chocolate and plates of roast and mash, his Mum and Dad laughing and smiling…

"Mr. Potter?"

In a flash, Harry jumped and sat up. He swivelled in the direction of the door to find Snape eyeing him coolly.

"Sir!"

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"Oh! No. I just didn't expect you to be here."

"I gathered that. If I may have a word?"

"Uh… yeah. Sure," Harry replied apprehensively.

Snape strode into the room and paused, a hand on the chair by Harry's bed. He raised an eyebrow and Harry nodded. Taking his seat, Snape spoke.

"I trust that with Mr. Malfoy home for the break, and although it may be… a challenge to occupy yourself, you will not involve yourself in any form of trouble?"

Snape fixed Harry with a stare that seemed to look right through him, and for a moment, it seemed as if Snape knew that they'd found out about the Stone and the Cerberus in the third-floor corridor. He couldn't tell Snape about it, of course, so he settled for a half-truth. It wasn't as if he was going to go _looking _for trouble.

"Yes. Yes, of course, sir. I wasn't going to."

"Good. I do not wish to have to deal with childish antics, nor the extended presence of first-years in my office."

Harry watched curiously as Snape hesitated, as if he had something more to say, but he seemed to think better of it. He nodded curtly at Harry and rose, pausing just before the doorframe.

"Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry asked, sitting up again, as he'd fallen back into the pillows when Snape had made to leave.

"I could do with assistance in brewing."

Before he had a chance to reply, the Potions Master had left, leaving Harry with the thought that Snape was a man he would never understand.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello again, dear readers. If you're in the Northern Hemisphere, I do hope you're enjoying your summer, and if you're down South - like I am - I hope you're not hating the winter. Once again, I apologise for the delay, and I thank you for the support you've all shown me since I started this fic. I hope you'll continue reading and reviewing. Until next time.


	15. Desires at Christmas

Christmas morning dawned like any other; chilly and grey, as it always was in the dungeons. If not for the rather unexpected pile of presents lying at the foot of Harry's bed, he wouldn't have realised today was any different. He'd been occupying himself as best he could (he hadn't taken Snape up on his offer yet, although he thought he would soon, seeing as Madam Pince was becoming increasingly frustrated with the sheer number of books he'd taken off the shelves in the few days since his classmates had left) but he'd been hoping for Christmas to arrive, and finally, it had.

_This is all for me?_ Harry thought incredulously as he bolted to the adjoining bathroom to freshen up, the excitement of opening the gifts almost too much to bear.

Not fifteen minutes later, Harry was sat by his bed, a rectangular package covered in Quidditch themed wrapping paper (complete with Snitches zooming to and fro) in his lap. He was still in awe, really, at the packages of various shapes and sizes around him. He shook his head, a smile ghosting his lips at the wonder of the day to come – and yes, it would be wondrous, considering how poorly Christmas at the Dursley's had always gone (for him, at least).

Then, not wanting to put it off any longer, Harry ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal a book entitled _Quidditch Through the Ages _– a fitting gift from Theo. Harry's eyes widened as he flipped through the pages, to be greeted by moving diagrams of Quidditch manoeuvres and players in robes of blue and orange and black waving back at him. He loved his first gift already, and there were still so many more to open. Harry was beginning to think that this would be his favourite day of the year.

Harry's grin grew wider with each item he uncovered – a box of Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills from Vince and a deck of Exploding Snap cards from Greg, a wand holster from Daphne, a fifty-pence piece from the Dursleys (Harry had scoffed at that), a quill-maintenance kit from Blaise, a Wizards' Chess set from Tracey, a mirror (that had started commenting on the state of his hair the moment he got it out of its box) from Millicent, a wooden flute from Hagrid and a box of owl treats from Pansy. Harry shoved the torn wrapping paper to one side and pulled a wooden box closer to him – from Draco, according to the tag. He unclasped the latch and removed the letter enclosed to read it.

…

**_Harry,_**

**_Happy Christmas!_**

**_Has the Weasel been horrible?_**

**_Christmas at the Manor has been better than I expected, although I am sure it would have been even better were you here. Mother has said that the invitation still stands, by the way, so if you would like to join us, you're welcome to. I know Mother would love to finally meet you, and though Father does not say it, I would think he wishes to as well. _**

**_It is a shame you will not be able to attend the Minister's Ball along with us (and by us, I mean Theo, Daphne and I), for it will be an evening of politics and showiness (for the adults) and endless introductions and sheer boredom (for us 'children'), and as I have yet to get you back for the pillow you so needlessly threw at me, this would be the perfect opportunity. _**

**_However, I do hope that your break is if not enjoyable, tolerable, and that you have had more luck regarding the Stone than I. Mother did not have any answers, and Father looked at me oddly when I broached the subject, and then abruptly changed it. Either way, we will discuss that when I return to Hogwarts. _**

**_Thank you for the present. I really mean it. The Tornados have never acknowledged my correspondence, so how did you manage to have Birch sign those robes? _**

**_Now I can only wonder if you will be pleased with your gift. I hope you are. _**

**_See you soon. _**

**_Your best friend,_**

**_Draco _**

…

Laughing at the positively ancient wording, Harry set the letter down, wondering just what Draco had gotten him.

Even from its exterior, Harry could tell that the green leather-bound album he had removed from the box was expensive, but not frivolously so. He rolled his eyes at the snake etched into the top corner – Draco took his House pride too far, sometimes – but as he flipped the album open, he knew that he loved it. The words etched in gold on the inside of the cover made him gasp, as did the photograph on the first page.

**_To Harry,_** it read, **_May our friendship endure beyond the last page_**, and accompanying it was a not-so-still image of their first encounter at _Madam Malkin's_. The next half dozen pages contained similar images of the memorable moments in their friendship – his personal favourite was 'Toast to the Face' – and as he savoured each one, Harry understood just what Draco meant. He made a promise to himself that their friendship would endure; and everyone else be damned. How could Draco ever have thought that he wouldn't even like it?

Harry shook his head as he stashed the album in his trunk, thinking that this day could not get any better. That changed though, when he peeled back the wrapping of the last parcel, and a note fell out.

**_Your father left this in my possession before he died. _**

**_It is time it was returned to you. _**

**_Use it well. _**

**_A Very Merry Christmas to you. _**

There was no signature; nothing at all to indicate who had sent it. Questions blossomed in his mind. _Was it really his father's? Who had he left it to? _Intrigued, Harry spread the shimmering material around him, and blinked. His legs had disappeared, and all he could see was the carpet beneath him.

Harry sucked in a breath and jumped to his feet. _Was this what he thought it was?_ Harry rushed over to the mirror and drew the cloth around his shoulders. _Woah_, he thought, as his body vanished from view, the reflection showing only his head – suspended in mid-air. A cloth that made things invisible? Draco was going to freak when he saw this.

Before he could think anything else, Harry heard footsteps approaching and he stuffed the cloth into his trunk – he didn't want just anyone finding out about it. Jeremiah Loxley – a fourth year, one of the other three Slytherins staying – stuck his head through the doorway, as he had done since the first morning of the break.

"Coming, Potter?"

Harry nodded, and with one last glance at the gifts he had received, left the room, a smile ghosting his features.

…

Harry had never in all his life had such a great Christmas; the presents were the first and finest he had ever received and the Dinner was one of the best meals he had ever had. Platters of large roast turkeys and fat chipolatas, mountains of roast and potatoes, tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of rich gravy and cranberry sauce, flaming Christmas puddings – and the stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table, which were nothing at all like the pathetic Muggle ones Dudley always seemed so excited about, with their flimsy paper cut outs and small plastic toys. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Ronald Weasley – by some sort of luck, they'd been entirely civil so far – and it went off with a spectacular bang, engulfing the both of them in a thick blue smoke, from which emerged a rear-admiral's hat and a few live, white mice, which he immediately shooed away.

At the High Table, the professors all seemed to be joining in the festivities – aside from Snape, who was scowling at the flowery bonnet atop Dumbledore's head and alternating between glaring at the red and giggling (and slightly drunk) McGonagall and the antics of the Weasley twins. It wasn't that much of a surprise, really, not to any of the students, but Harry thought the man would have at least been in a better mood, after the brewing they'd managed to get through that afternoon. It wasn't what Harry thought it would be. They had worked in relative silence, Snape barely saying a word – nothing at all like their usual Potions lessons, and Harry had come to like it.

By the time he left the table, Harry's pockets were weighed down by a Grow-your-own-warts Kit, a practice Snitch, a Bottomless Pouch, a book of wizard fairy tales, and a pair of red-and-green striped socks decorated with candy canes. Harry spent the rest of the evening in the Common Room, playing a one-sided game of chess against Jeremiah and shifting under the gazes the two sixth-years watching on, and breaking into _Quidditch Through the Ages, _which was quickly starting to be his favourite book.

As Harry bid the Slytherins good night and retired to his dormitory, the thought that had been nagging at him throughout the day returned in full force. Who had sent him the cloth? Taking advantage of the empty room, Harry drew the cloth out of his trunk. It flowed over his hands, smoother and lighter than anything he had held before. He had to try it, now. He wrapped the cloth around himself, and seeing only light and shadows where his body should be, excitement flooded him.

**_Use it well_**, the note had said. Indeed, he would – the possibilities were endless, its usefulness unlimited. He could go anywhere he liked, whenever he liked, and no one would be any wiser. And there, Harry made a split-second decision, before he could lose his nerve. He swept out of the dormitory and crept past the sixth-years lounging by the fire in the Common Room.

"Who's there?" they called, as Harry slipped out the wall. He said nothing, hurrying down the corridor, trying as best he could to keep his footsteps quiet. Heart racing, Harry stopped at the end of the hall. Where should he go? Choosing to let his feet lead him, Harry continued onwards.

Hogwarts at this time of night was nothing like Harry was used to. It was dim and quiet, eerily so, and he very nearly jumped out of his skin when two gleaming eyes stared into his from around the corner. Harry didn't know if cats could see right through the enchantment, but he wasn't going to bait luck, especially if it was Mrs Norris. If Filch's cat was near, the old caretaker would come running with one mere yowl, and Harry didn't want to risk that. Even though Filch couldn't see him, what if he ran into him?

Luckily for Harry, a door stood ajar a few paces away, and he decided to wait it out inside while the cat continued on its business. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a gleam coming from the wall facing him caught his eye. He stepped closer, taking in the magnificent mirror propped against the wall amidst piles of disused chairs and desks, as if someone had placed it there and forgotten about it. An inscription carved into the ornate golden frame across the top read: **_Erised stra ehru oy tube cafru oyt on wohsi. _**He found it odd, however, that no reflection was there to look back at him.

He stepped even closer, itching to touch it, but had to bite down on his tongue to stop from screaming. He whirled around. There was no one there. He looked back at the mirror. He saw not just himself, but a whole crowd of people standing behind him. Were they invisible too, then? Harry glanced back over his shoulder. If they were really there, he was close enough to touch them, but all he felt when he reached for them was air.

He looked back at the mirror again. Directly behind him, he saw a man and woman, and a girl, standing beside them. The man – tall, thin, and black-haired, held the woman's hand. His hair was unruly, and he wore glasses over hazel eyes – exactly like Harry, excepting the eyes. The woman had dark red hair and bright green eyes – eyes like Harry's, even the same shape. The girl looked younger than him, with eyes like the man's and a smile like the woman's. They all smiled fondly down at him, and as he saw the man place a hand on his shoulder, Harry came to a realisation.

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad? Sis?"

They didn't reply, only smiled back at him, and the people behind them waved at him. As he stared hungrily at the figures, his hands pressed against the glass, Harry realised that he was looking at his family – his whole family – for the first time. An ache grew inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness, and several tears fell unwittingly from his eyes.

It could've been minutes or hours; Harry didn't know how long he stood there, looking. As a distant noise pulled him back to his senses, he knew that he couldn't stay, and with a whispered "I'll come back," Harry hurried out the room.

…

The next day, Harry could think of nothing more than going back to the mirror. The sensible part of him knew that he shouldn't, that the mirror was doing him no favours, and that the daze he'd been in all day could become permanent if he didn't start thinking of something else. Even Snape had seemed suspicious that day, pulling him aside with a "Potter, what have you been up to?" The part of him that yearned to see his family again won out, though, and he returned to the disused classroom.

The mirror still stood there, untouched. Harry dropped the cloth and raced to stand before it. Sure enough, the Potters beamed when they saw him, and he stood there, looking for Merlin knows how long.

…

The third night he slipped out of the dungeons to find the mirror, Harry knew he was becoming obsessive. But with no one there to stop him, he didn't think he could. Once more, he navigated through the corridors, but when he pushed the door open, his heart stopped. The mirror was gone. In its place was a slip of parchment stuck to the wall.

**_You, Harry, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised. By now, you must have figured out what it does – 'I show not your true face but your heart's desire'. I have been watching, and I fear that like many others before you, you will waste away before it, or be driven mad by what you have seen. It is not safe, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again._**

**_The Mirror has been moved to a new home, and if you ever run across it in the future, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. _**

**_Have a good night, Harry._**

**_Albus Dumbledore _**

Harry sunk to the floor, Dumbledore's words sinking in. The Mirror was gone, and with it, his family.

It was only when he was back in bed, snug under the covers, when the thought hit him. Dumbledore had been watching him? What for? And why, then, would the Mirror have been left there, if it was so dangerous?

* * *

**A/N: **And there, another chapter is over. I hope you enjoyed this one, even though there weren't very many changes to the original story line. As always, thank you for reading, and I always appreciate your reviews.


	16. What I Do Know

**Chapter 16: What I Do Know**

Though the cloth lay folded in the bottom of his trunk, untouched for the remainder of the Christmas holidays, Harry often found himself distracted with thoughts of the Mirror, and what he had seen. Nor did he forget Dumbledore's words, and with each passing day jerked awake by unpleasant nightmares, Harry was beginning to think that the Headmaster was right – the Mirror had begun to drive him mad.

Perusing the shelves for even the tiniest mention of Nicholas Flamel and chopping ingredient after ingredient in the dungeon lab did not help to keep away the image of his parents disappearing in a flash of brilliant green light, while a high pitched voiced cackled with laughter.

'Professor Snape has stores of Dreamless Sleep should you require it,' Draco had replied, when Harry had written to tell him of the dreams, but Harry had certainly expected something more.

Harry just wished the holidays would end; he did not like being alone.

* * *

When Harry showed Draco the cloth upon his return, Draco's jaw had dropped.

"An Invisibility Cloak? Do you know how rare they are?" he exclaimed. "Who sent it to you?"

Harry shrugged, before digging around for the note that had come with the Cloak.

"Huh," Draco said, then began interrogating Harry on the details of his holiday. Draco, however, was not as forthcoming with his, which Harry took to mean that Draco hadn't had as much fun as his letters seemed to convey.

It turned out that neither boy was any closer to learning the identity of Nicholas Flamel, and of course, neither was Hermione. In disappointment, they gave up hope of ever finding out who this mysterious figure was, and as term started and homework swooped in, Harry began to push the issue of Flamel and the Stone into the back of his mind once again.

Then, on a particularly dreary study session in windy, wet January, the answer came to them, though not in the way any of them wanted.

The Slytherin boys, save for Vincent and Gregory, had claimed their table in the corner of the library, focussed on writing the essay that would determine their fate in Snape's classes for the rest of the week.

"Are we meant to stir clockwise or anticlockwise after adding the Valerian springs?" Blaise asked.

"Clockwise," Draco answered, without looking up, still furiously scribbling away.

"Thanks."

Theodore snickered. "I didn't know the Forgetfulness Potion could work before we even brewed it."

The four boys looked at each other for a second, then broke out into laughter.

At that moment, Neville Longbottom tripped and crashed into Draco, whose laughter cut off immediately. Harry watched on in apprehension as Draco shoved the Gryffindor off and turned to face him, eyes cold and condescending.

"Well, well, Longbottom. Are you not only magically disabled, but physically as well?" Draco sneered.

The boys drew in a breath.

"S-sorry. It w-was an accident," Neville stuttered, red-faced.

"S-sorry. It w-was an accident," Draco mocked. "Of course it was. Just like your conception."

Blaise snorted, and Harry glared at him, silencing the boy. A roiling lump formed in his gut, unable to believe that his friend could be so cruel, despite the hints that he had seen before.

"Stop it, Draco," Harry pleaded, his Gryffindor showing.

If Draco heard it, he paid Harry no heed. Instead, he drew his wand, twirling it in a picture of innocence.

"Perhaps it would be best if we stopped you from causing more accidents, then."

"N-no. You don't need to. I – I won't ..."

"Say, then, Longbottom, empty your pockets and I'll let you leave."

"Draco!"

As Blaise and Theodore cast Harry annoyed looks, Draco merely rolled his eyes and snatched away the Remembrall and the box of Chocolate Frogs that Neville had removed from his pockets.

"Pity, Longbottom. I had thought you carried more valuable belongings than a Mudblood."

Harry's vision flashed red and he lunged across the table, but he wasn't quick enough.

"_Petrificus Totalus_."

Harry glowered at Draco as Neville's limbs snapped together, and he fell, stiff as a board, to the floor.

"What's wrong with you, Draco?" Harry hissed indignantly, before performing the counter-curse on the Gryffindor and dragging the larger boy away.

As the urge to hurt abated, and the betrayal in Harry's eyes sunk in, guilt pricked Draco, and he turned his attention to the Chocolate Frogs in the hopes of ignoring it.

"Damn, Draco."

"Yeah, Longbottom was about to wet himself."

"When did Harry become a Gryffindor?"

"Just shut it, will you?" Draco sighed, brushing a hand over his eyes; his father would have been proud of that scene. _Harry was right_, he thought. _What was wrong with him?_ But it would not do to show his hesitation now; it was the only thing stopping him from chasing after Harry, and well, to be frank, he didn't think he could stomach that look on his best friend's face just now.

Draco threw the Chocolate Frogs on the table, and the other boys reached for it.

"Does it always have to be Dumbledore?" Blaise asked, staring at the Famous Wizard card in his hand.

Draco looked up from his own waving image of Falco Aesalon, and the description on the back of Blaise's card caught his eye.

"Give it here, Blaise," he said, snatching it out of the boy's hand. "Dumbledore is particularly famous… and his work on alchemy with his partner –" Draco stopped reading, and with widened eyes, rushed out the library in search of Harry, leaving Blaise and Theodore staring after him in confusion.

* * *

Draco was not used to being ignored, and he hated it.

"Harry, please."

Draco's plea was met with silence; the boy in question ignoring him in favour of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. It had not taken Draco long to find Harry – where was there for him to go, really, aside from their dorms? –, although now, Draco wished it had taken him longer, if only to steel himself.

"Harry, I…"

Draco tried to apologise, but the words wouldn't come.

"I… I'm sorry."

At the uncharacteristic apology, Harry turned to face Draco, who froze at the intensity in his gaze.

"It's not me you should be apologising to. Do you know Neville's still in the Hospital Wing, being monitored for signs of concussion?" Harry questioned, quoting Madam Pomfrey's medical jargon.

"No, why would – I – I wasn't thinking, alright?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're not an idiot, Draco, and you're not like me either. You _were _thinking. You knew what you were doing, but you still did it."

"It's how I was raised, Harry. You can't just – it's not…" Draco sighed. He was an heir, yes, to a Noble and Most Ancient House, and one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but he was still too young, and so was Harry. It was not the time for discussions such as this. "Like you said, I'm not like you. I don't know how to be a Gryffindor."

"But I do know who Nicholas Flamel is."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, my lovely readers, thank you so much for waiting this long for a chapter that I believe is the shortest yet. I had some trouble getting this out - my muse seems to have deserted me. But at the end of the day, all of you deserve my utmost appreciation, for without you, I would not have written this far, nor would it have been as enjoyable. So once again, please leave some feedback, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	17. A Mystery Solved

**Chapter 17: A Mystery Solved**

Harry, Draco and Hermione had gathered at their spot in the library, away from prying eyes and ears, and finally, after months of searching, they had some answers.

"Nicholas Flamel is the _only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone_," Hermione hissed.

Draco stared.

"Has Dumbledore actually gone mad? He's hiding the Philosopher's Stone in Hogwarts, when even Gringotts couldn't prevent the break-in?"

And Harry looked clueless.

"The what stone?"

"Honestly, Harry, don't you read?" Hermione began, and dragged the large tome closer to her. "The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making–"

"Granger. Would it kill you to explain it like _the_ _rest of us mortals_ would?

"Right. Sorry."

"The Philosopher's Stone supposedly transforms any metal into pure gold, and it produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal," Draco explained.

"And Nicholas Flamel, who is six hundred and sixty-five, mind you, possesses the only Stone in existence," Hermione added.

"Immortality's real, then? And turning things into gold? Well, who wouldn't want that?"

Hermione opened her mouth, poised to argue. "Would you, though? What good would it do you to live forever, to watch the world around you crumble and the people you love die? It's a curse, Harry, not a blessing."

"Don't be so sure, Granger. Imagine what you could do with everlasting life, and more gold than anyone would ever see in a lifetime. Imagine the size of your vault, and the knowledge you could acquire. And perhaps, if you were Slytherin enough, imagine you could conquer the world."

Harry glimpsed the spark in Hermione's eyes, and interrupted before it evolved into a full-scale philosophical debate. _It's what happens_, Harry thought, _when your friends are miles ahead of you._

"Well, now we know what Fluffy's guarding."

"And why it's definitely not safe," Draco interjected.

The three first-years looked at each other, before Hermione asked what everyone was thinking.

"So, what do we do now?"

No one had any answers.

* * *

That night, as Harry approached the corridor leading to his dormitory, Draco cornered him.

"Look, Harry, I need to know if we're okay."

"We're okay."

Draco stared at Harry in disbelief.

"Just… just like that? You've…"

"Yes, Draco, I forgive you. I know how hard it is, having to live up to expectations; trying to be someone you're not. Just try to apologise to Neville, alright, if you get the chance."

Harry offered his friend a smile and walked on, while Draco was left standing alone, speechless, wondering how a person like Harry Potter, so Gryffindor yet Slytherin, could exist, and what more, be someone he could honestly call friend.

* * *

The first Quidditch match of the new year turned out to be another spectacular victory for Slytherin – their 320 to Ravenclaw's 130 – putting them in the definite lead for the Quidditch Cup. Harry shared his House's sentiment: 'o_ne more win and we'll take it_'; and the odds were in their favour, considering Hufflepuff had lost every one of their matches so far.

"How good was that catch?"

"Great game, Flint!"

"That's the biggest point margin yet!"

The celebratory atmosphere of the Slytherin stands were contagious, to say the least, and Harry was swept up in the cheers and laughter. Grinning, he glanced at the other end of the pitch, where a majority of the Gryffindors, even Neville, were looking quite annoyed indeed. _Oh well_, he thought,_ what better way to taunt Weasley_, and turned back to share the joy with his friends.

As the stands gradually cleared out and the first-years joined the mob strolling towards the castle, a familiar movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. A dramatic swirl of black teaching robes heading in the opposite direction, towards the Forbidden Forest.

Pausing, Harry pulled Draco away from view, gesturing at Snape.

"What do you think he's doing?"

"Come on, mate, you're not suspecting the Professor again, are you?"

"We still don't know who let the troll in." Harry lowered his voice. "And you know we both saw him."

"He may be gathering Potions ingredients."

Harry looked at Draco sceptically.

"All right, fine. What do you want to do, then? Follow him?"

The sarcasm was unmistakable, but Harry showed no hesitation.

"Yes."

"What? No. No way. Snape isn't blind, or deaf."

"But we have something he doesn't have," Harry replied, and withdrew the Invisibility Cloak from his book bag.

"Well, you came prepared."

Draco sighed, knowing what his parents say if they knew, but he could not say no to the glint in Harry's eye.

"Fine. But if anything happens, it's on you."

"Of course," Harry said, and threw the Cloak over the both of them.

The boys followed at a jog, keeping within a safe distance of their Head of House – not too close, yet not too far. A chill ran down Harry's spine as they neared the Forest, and Draco began to wonder why he had ever agreed at all.

"Maybe we should just head back," Draco whispered, which Harry chose to ignore and instead kept them moving forward.

As they – as stealthily as they could manage – navigated through the shadows and the branch-strewn floor, and encountered a few close-shaves (Snape had stopped for a good thirty seconds, once, Harry swore, and he was almost sure that the man had heard their pounding hearts), Snape finally stopped in a clearing.

"Look," Harry told Draco, as another figure came into view.

"Quirrell? What's he doing here?"

"Gathering Potions ingredients, huh?" Harry asked, to which Draco had no reply.

The boys fell silent, almost holding their breaths, as Quirrell began in a stutter worse than they had ever heard him.

"I d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus…"

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice cold and threatening. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

The boys shared a look under the Cloak. _He knows. _

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I –"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell."

"I-I don't know what you –"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

Snape was only inches away from Quirrell now, and Harry had to wonder how the Defense Professor wasn't cowering in fear. If it had been him facing that venomous glare, Harry was sure that he'd already be dead ten times over.

An owl hooted loudly, and Harry jumped, almost cracking a branch underfoot. Draco gasped, before clamping a hand over his mouth, paranoid that he'd been heard. They calmed themselves in time to hear Snape say, "– your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't –"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode away from the petrified Professor; Harry and Draco shrank back against a tree as he passed.

"I think… he wants it," Harry said, as he felt something twist in his gut. He'd suspected, but he hadn't _known_. Harry hadn't really believed that Snape had something to do with it, but after what he'd seen…

_And to think he'd come to trust the man, even open up to him. _

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and tugged on Draco's sleeve.

"Come on, we have to tell Hermione."

Draco fell into step, unable to believe the events that had just transpired.

* * *

"So we were right," Harry explained, as they ushered Hermione away from Neville and to their corner of the library. "It is the Philosopher's Stone."

Neville threw them backwards glances – half curiosity, half fear – and Harry felt bad, but he thought it best, and safer, to keep it between the three of them.

"Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy – and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus' – I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through –"

Hermione's eyes had widened in alarm as Harry spoke. "So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?"

Harry nodded.

"We'll have to tell someone."

"Do you think we misunderstood, Harry?" Draco asked, speaking over Hermione. He'd been abnormally quiet the entire walk back.

"I hope so, Draco. I hope so, because Quirrell won't last another week."

* * *

**A/N: **

**Thank you all once again for sticking with me, and waiting over a month for yet another chapter. In any case, I do hope you enjoyed it. Please 'follow', 'favourite' and leave a review - I really appreciate them all; a good word really can make my day! **

**P.S. There's under a month left to Christmas - can you believe it? - and I'm hopeful of getting another chapter out before then, so stay tuned. **


	18. Dragon

**Chapter 18**

It seemed, however, that Harry was wrong – Quirrell had lasted the week, and the weeks after. Harry had to give the man credit – although he grew thinner and paler and his stutter became more pronounced in the weeks that followed, it didn't looked like he'd cracked.

In the end, the trio had not gone to anyone, but they hadn't any reason to – not _yet_, anyway; for if Snape's nastiness was anything to go by, he hadn't had much success in his quest for the Stone. And, after all, who could they go to, when half – and maybe more – the school hated them?

Though Hermione had assured the boys that the Stone lay safe – courtesy of the detention Weasley had gained by venturing into the corridor, and, of course, running into Fluffy –, Harry had begun to grow more paranoid. Potions classes were less than enjoyable now, with the bare minimum of attention he actually paid to his work, and instead keeping an eye on the Professor throughout their lessons.

"Stop it, Harry," Draco had warned, after Snape had stalked away from their desk, glaring down his nose at the mediocre Cure for Boils Harry had brewed. "He knows something's up."

To Harry's bemusement, Snape had not said a word about it, nor assign him a detention, or corner him in the halls. Sometimes, though, when he was caught unawares, and he looked the man directly in the eye, the strangest feeling would wash over him – the same one he'd felt in the Headmaster's office, as if something was moving around in his head. It made him terribly uneasy, what with the random pains shooting through his scar at the most inopportune moments, but he made no mention of it to his friends – _They're worried enough as it is, _Harry reasoned.

Draco, still, was not entirely convinced that they had the full truth, but he had ceased his ridicule of Quirrell's stutter, and both of them had begun to take Defense more seriously, instead of joking behind the Professor's back and doodling in the margins of their textbooks. And though Harry's Potion's grades slipped, those of his other subjects had improved, thanks to both Hermione's and Draco's preparations for the upcoming exams. They were still weeks away, yes, but the detailed study schedules and the colour-coded stacks of notes had helped – and, most importantly, these sessions let him laugh, as he had not really done since that night in the Forest.

_"Granger, your quill's in my face." _

_"Get those Frogs out of here, Draco!" _

_"Merlin, Granger. She asked for twelve inches, not fifty!" _

_"Seriously, Draco? You're building a castle using _my _books?" _

Sometimes, Neville joined them, and for a while he'd seemed nervous to do so, but eventually even he was amused by Draco and Hermione's bickering. Millicent and Theodore joined them too, after they'd finally realised that Harry would not stop hanging around with the Gryffindors, no matter what they said – and it wasn't half-bad, Harry would think after.

Amidst his friends' frantic studying and the piles of homework they'd been set, Harry had less and less time to worry about the Stone, but a note that arrived amidst the flurry of owls one morning added another worry to his list.

**_Harry, _**it read, in Hagrid's slipshod lettering. **_Come to my hut at 7.00 today. I have something to show you. _**

"What now?" Draco groaned, leaning in to read the message. "Did he find a recipe for a different-flavoured rock cake?"

Harry couldn't stop the laughter that escaped him. "For all we know, it could be."

* * *

At precisely seven that evening, Harry and Draco rapped on the door of Hagrid's hut. To their surprise, the curtains were drawn, and the low, rumbling barks that usually greeted them were absent.

"Hullo, Harry. Hullo Draco," Hagrid muttered, as he ushered them into his house and quickly shut the door. "Good of yeh te' come."

Harry looked around him, taking in his surroundings. The hut itself didn't seem any different from the last time they had visited, but something wasn't right either – Hagrid, and even Fang, were acting abnormally.

"Is it just me or is it _hot_ in here?" Draco whispered as he eyed Fang, who seemed to be staring miserably at something in the fireplace.

"It _is_ boiling," Harry whispered back, shrugging off his school robes. "I'm going to open a window."

"No!" Hagrid yelled, when he turned and noticed Harry's hand on the window latch, causing everyone else to wince. With shaking hands, Hagrid dropped the tea set onto the table, sloshing and clattering, and hastened to return Harry – who was still frozen in position – to a seat.

Harry blinked in disbelief as he plonked down onto a chair beside Draco. _What in Salazar's name was that? _

"A'right, look," Hagrid explained, as he bent over to pick up something from the fireplace. "Here's why yeh can't open the windows."

Both boys' jaw dropped as Hagrid cradled the huge, black egg and set it before them.

"Where did you get the egg of a Norwegian Ridgeback?" Draco asked, in awe. "Do you know how rare they are?"

Harry swivelled over to stare at his friend. Surely Hagrid had more pressing concerns, like – "Hagrid, you live in a _wooden_ house."

Hagrid, humming merrily as he carried the egg back into the fire, didn't seem to hear him; though Draco's eyes widened, almost as if he'd forgotten that fact.

"Damn. And it's been outlawed since 1709 – it's the only reason why Mother wouldn't let me have one," Draco muttered.

How had Harry not known that his best friend was so crazy over dragons?

_It's not as if his name is _Draco_, _Harry thought sarcastically.

"Won it," said Hagrid proudly, as he brushed his apron down of ash and joined them at the table. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"What?" the boys exclaimed, though for rather different reasons.

"Glad to get rid of it? Glad?"

"You got it off a stranger? Isn't that just a bit dodgy?"

Hagrid waved their questions away with a chuckle.

"Well, I'll raise it well, I will. Bin doin' some readin', he said, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library – Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit – it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour."

"Seems like you've got it all planned out, then, Hagrid."

Hagrid beamed.

"Wonder what life would be like if I'd never met you," Draco sighed when they'd left, with another worry upon their shoulders.

* * *

"Ronald's brother works with dragons, apparently," Hermione said when they'd told her.

"Merlin, they breed like rabbits."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Draco, though she did have to admit that it wasn't quite _normal_ for one to have that many children – not by Muggle standards, and apparently not by Wizarding ones either.

"How many siblings does he even have?" exclaimed Harry, who couldn't quite believe it either.

Counting off her fingers, Hermione answered.

"So, there're the twins – Fred and George, and Percy, whom you all know. There's Charlie, who Ronald says works with dragons in Romania, the oldest is Bill, who's a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts, and then there's Ginny, his younger sister. So… that's six."

"Merlin, and they couldn't even give them better names? I mean, Percy's alright, but the rest are basically plebeian."

"You think _Draco_ is any better?" Hermione enquired, smacking the boy with a scroll she'd just rolled up.

Draco glared down his nose at Hermione.

"It's a most respectable name, I'll have you know, and it's a circumpolar constellation steeped in mythology, but I wouldn't expect you to know that."

Hermione, who really was quite well-versed in constellations – seeing as there'd been a stage of her life in which she'd wanted to name her children after constellations – would have rattled off what exactly she knew for the next hour, if not for Harry's hasty intervention.

"So, Hermione, why'd you bring up Weasley's brother?"

"Well," Hermione said, slightly unsure. "You might think it's a stupid idea, but – but we could ask him for help?"

"And how exactly, Granger, are you planning to do that?" Draco asked, as if she'd indeed gone mad. "You think the Weasel would help us?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, in an expression that meant _please, of course not._

"No, we could ask the twins to deliver a message for us. And quickly, before it hatches, and before we get into more trouble than we're already in."

Draco looked sceptical, and Harry looked contemplative, but he soon got that look in his eye – the look that no one would be able to shake.

"Okay, let's do it."

And the trio bent over a parchment to pen the letter that would – hopefully – solve this one problem, at least.

* * *

Luckily for them – really, it was all thanks to Hermione – the Weasley twins were willing to help, despite not knowing what exactly that help entailed, and Hermione had arranged for them to meet after lessons the next day.

Whispers filled the library as soon as the Weasley twins walked in, and Harry nodded in greeting as they approached.

"Well, well, Forge, we haven't set foot in here in years," one half of the twins grinned, glancing around the library.

"You're right, Gred. I almost forgot this place even existed."

"Are you sure _they_ can help? If they're anything like the Weasel…" Draco whispered, unconvinced, overhearing their exchange.

Hermione puckered her lips, as if Draco's cynicism was a direct insult to her.

"Would you rather we go to Professor Dumbledore, then?"

"Guys, _stop_ it," hissed Harry, and his friends deflated.

"So, firsties, however can we offer our services?" Fred – as Hermione had pointed out (she could tell the twins apart, somehow) probed as he plonked down beside Harry, throwing an arm across his shoulders, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"What's the matter, kid?" George laughed as Draco scooted away from the new arrivals in a bid to avoid the same fate.

Draco scowled at Hermione as she slid the folded parchment across the table.

"We need to send this to Charlie. Like I said, it's important."

"Don't you lot have owls?"

"Well, yes, but Romania's days away from Scotland, and what if he doesn't even read it?"

"Why Charlie, anyway? What does he have that we don't?" George asked with a wink.

Hermione blinked; the twins shared a grin.

"Alright, if we owl it to Mum to Floo to Charlie, you'll owe us one."

"I thought they were Gryffindors," Draco muttered. "Since when do they strike deals?"

"What's that, Malfoy? The Hat said we could've made fine Slytherins, you know," they smirked.

This time, it was Draco's turn to fall speechless.

"Okay, but make sure it stays secret," Harry answered.

"Of course," George winked, tucking the parchment in his robes. "Who do you think we are, Slytherins?"

The twins fled, leaving two bristling but confused Slytherins and a blushing Gryffindor in their wake.

* * *

Charlie Weasley's reply arrived two mornings later, and if all went according to plan, the egg would be on its way to a protected dragon reserve in Romania by the week's end, and no one else would be any wiser.

But alas, as Harry would discover soon enough, when did things in his life ever go according to plan?

The night of the proceedings started out well enough – Harry and Draco (Hermione, no matter how much they'd tried to sway her, would not agree to following them.) under the Invisibility Cloak by the edge of the castle, watching, in case anything went wrong.

"Do we really have to be here?" Draco pouted. "It's past curfew, and if we get caught…"

Harry shushed him.

"If Snape didn't catch us when we were following him, who's going to catch us when we're standing still? We won't get caught."

Frowning, Draco squinted into the distance, tugging on Harry's sleeve when he made out the shadowy outlines of two figures descending on brooms near Hagrid's hut.

"I think they're here. Look."

The figures entered, and a while later, after what Harry assumed was Hagrid's desperate attempts to keep the egg, (he did feel sorry for Hagrid, but this was best, in the end.) they emerged with what looked like a crate carried between them and somehow managed to secure it to their brooms.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Charlie's colleagues vanished into the night sky.

"There, it's done."

"Thank Merlin."

The boys cautiously made their way back into the castle, which was, at this time of night, a fortress of darkness and silence – which only made their journey harder. They only narrowly managed to skirt around the ever-watchful Mrs Norris, and as the wall to their Common Room slid open, Harry let the Cloak fall, their hearts finally calm –

"It must have been an entertaining escapade indeed, wandering around in the dead of night."

Snape, in his swirling robes of black, towered over them, his face devoid of emotion.

* * *

**A/N:**

Thank you, my dear readers, for waiting around yet again for this chapter. It wasn't a particularly easy one to write, but I sure hope I managed to retain the personalities of each character and continue the story in a realistic fashion. So, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please leave a review - they really mean the world to mean, as do each and every one of you. Please 'follow' and 'favourite' too - I'd greatly appreciate it!

Anyway, there's a week left till Christmas, so if I don't release a chapter before then, Merry Christmas!

Until next time.


End file.
